The Outlaw
by Tellemicus Sundance
Summary: Abundant pride can destroy the world. The wizards neglect their duties, allow dragons to break free of control all across the Earth, destroying cities. Now fear and greed trigger civil wars throughout society. Who can endure in this savage new world?
1. City of Ashes

**The Outlaw  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 1—City of Ashes_

**July 31, 1991  
Wednesday**

**STRANGE DRAGON BEHAVIOR  
**_-Written by Robert Lodgeson _– International Magical Press

_In this day's edition, we continue the story of the strange behavior that has recently begun cropping up in many specimens of various dragon reserves. In recent months, many dragons have begun exhibiting strange symptoms that have many of the brightest researchers and experts stumped. They seem to be experiencing elevated levels of mating desire, greater than usual amounts of aggression, and an increased metabolism._

_One researcher had this to say when this reporter asked for a statement. "We were already expecting a higher than normal amount of new hatchlings from this season's mating. However if this strange phenomenon continues as such, I estimate that we'll be seeing double or even triple the number of hatchlings by summer's end."_

_We will have more on this story as it develops…_

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**January 14, 1995  
Sunday**

**DRAGONS ON THE RISE  
IS THERE A DANGER?  
**_-Written by Elizabeth Bale _– The Daily Prophet

_New evidence has at last come to light of the strange new dragon behaviors in the preserves. It has only recently been discovered that a peculiar new magical supplement has developed in the dragons' diet. This nutrient seems to be the cause behind the recent population explosion of the dragons, as well their increased aggression. However, the discovery of this nutrient may have come too late, experts say. In just this past year alone, the number of dragons in all known preserves has grown to be nearly ten times that of what their original estimates had been. This has many experts greatly concerned, given the limited preserve areas that have been set aside for them._

"_If the population continues to grow, even at its previous pace now that we've begun taking steps at extracting this nutrient supplement, I fear that the dragons will one day soon overrun the boundaries and begin searching for new nesting grounds. The boundaries of all preserves utilize a very unique and ancient form of magic designed to keep the dragons contained within. But I fear that should too many dragons exist within these boundaries at one time, they will eventually fail due to the obviously high amounts of power that are required to Confound and contain such a highly magic-resistant creature as a dragon._

"_And at that point, we will likely have lost the means to contain the species any longer. Muggles will learn of their existence and the Magical World by extension. When that happens, we will all be in serious danger, from the Muggles as well as the dragons themselves."_

_However, this reporter believes that the representative is jumping at shadows. Despite how many of the beasts may live within them, the preserves were designed and built for the specific purpose of containing them. And with the significant increase in magical knowledge and power in the centuries since the preservations' creation, we have gained much more efficient methods of containing and reacting to whatever problem comes our way. Let the dragons breed all they wish; they shall never breech our wards or resist our most powerful and modern of spells and magic, so says this reporter._

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**June 25, 1996  
Tuesday, 8:49pm  
London**

Young twelve-year-old Quinn Abercromby was not in a good mood, for obvious reasons. He had just received the results of his test earn a scholarship. He had failed to pass. He had worked and studied as hard as he possibly could to earn that scholarship, his mother had made sure of that, because they couldn't afford to send him to a school without one. And what made this failure even more stinging was that fact that he was fairly certain his mother would refuse to ask for any favors from her divorced husband. He tried to look for the silver lining on this dark cloud, but he frankly couldn't see any possibility of this ending well.

Needless to say, this morbid subject was on his mind as he made his way towards his mother's work. She was part of the new Underground Docklands Extension Line Project, one of the primary engineers of the Project in fact. Sadly, they had been experiencing a great deal of trouble since the very beginning, whether it was old or broken equipment, badly planned tunnel routes which were based on old and largely unhelpful maps, or just poor morale in general. Indeed, the weather had been quite dreary as of late as well, a perfect analogy of the morale of the workers.

Before he knew it or was 'ready' for it, he was standing before his mother Karen. She leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the forehead, which allowed her to get a good whiff of the new scent he'd picked up just moments earlier. "Have you been smoking?" she asked, teasingly.

"No, I've told you—I only smoke when I've been drinking," he answered, with none of his usual enthusiasm present in his voice. Karen picked up on this and his mood immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He didn't answer right away, instead walking slightly past her to place his bag on her makeshift desktop behind her, before digging through his bag for the thrice-damned failure notice. He handed it to her without comment, absentmindedly digging out the Zippo lighter he'd been given by his father just minutes before he walked out of his son's life. It was a nervous habit of Quinn's to play with the Zippo when in the presence of his mother or when he was feeling anxious or angry, both which he was feeling in spades at the moment.

"You know what it says," Karen said quietly, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "The scholarship was worth three thousand a year, we don't have that sort of money."

"Maybe we could ask Dad to pay?" Quinn suggested, hoping against hope that she'd agree or at least give the suggestion some thought. But her deep sigh and questioning glance was all the answer he needed to hear: no. With regret, he muttered softly, "Sorry."

"Karen?" a voice spoke up from behind her. "We've got a problem at Number 4. Jess says he's hit some kind of 'void'."

A few minutes after his mother had walked off to deal with the problem, Quinn decided to take a look for himself. After all, given his scholarship, it struck him as a pretty good chance that he'd be doing this kind of work himself in the all-too-near future. He followed the sounds of the screaming drills, quickly coming upon the man he knew as Jess as he was withdrawing the massive drill to take a peek into the exposed hole. Apparently he didn't like what he'd seen and was in an especially bad mood as well, "That bitch hasn't got a clue what she's doing."

Turning around, Jess easily spotted Quinn. His face went through several expressions before settling upon annoyed resignation. "Hey… Quinn. So, what brings you to the asshole of the world?"

"You're passing through it," Quinn pointed out with an even tone, despite his slightly narrowed eyes. "What does that make you?"

That comment _almost_ drew a smirk from Jess as he let out a laugh that hinted towards his obvious lack of amusement. After glancing back at the cave, he turned and held up the torch, he said, "Here, why don't you go inside and have a wee look?"

Quinn took the offered torch and moved towards the small drill hole without comment. The narrow, circular rock walls still had hot water running along them from the drill. But he paid it no mind as he crawled through the hole and into the cavern beyond.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**9:36pm  
London Airspace**

Lieutenant Walter Wilkes III couldn't help stare at the devastation below him. Many buildings were blazing, throwing up layers of very thick black smoke. He couldn't even begin to count how many automobile accidents there were that were lining the straights or how many people were running through the streets and sidewalks, screaming bloody murder. Who or what could've done this? It couldn't have been terrorists because it was far too widespread and disorganized. Plus there were apparently multiple emergency callings about a large flying creature attacking, the people kept screaming 'Dragon!'

Despite himself, Walter couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. _Dragons? Yeah right!_ But from the cockpit of his Apache attack helicopter, Lieutenant Wilkes couldn't spot anything…incriminating, much less a _dragon_.

"_Bravo One, reporting negative on enemies visual_," his team leader said over the radio. "_Report in, Bravo Team_."

"_This is Bravo Two, no visual_."

"_Bravo Three, nothing_."

"Bravo Four, I have no visual," Walter chimed, his eyes straying across the scorched cityscape below him.

"_Copy that_," Bravo One replied. "_Alright, regroup and return at_—"

Static suddenly cut the radio transmission off, catching the other helicopter pilots by surprise. A split-second later, an explosion lit up the smoky night sky about three miles off to Walter's portside.

"Command, Bravo One is down!" Walter called out immediately, already swinging his Apache towards the failing debris. "I say again, Bravo One is down!"

"_Roger, Bravo Team, seek and destroy!_" was the order that was issued in response.

As Walter was rushing his Apache towards his fallen team leader and friend, he noticed a dark shape in the smoke rushing towards him as his radar blared out an imminent collision warning. "This is Bravo Four, I have incoming!"

Though the numerous fires below offered a small margin of light that was reflected off the smoke and clouds, it wasn't enough for Walter to get more than a glimpse at the large shape charging him. Glancing at his targeting computer, he cursed loudly to himself when he saw that he couldn't seem to lock on to it. Glancing up again, his eyes widened, it was almost upon him! Squeezing the controls, he sent out a volley of high-caliber machine gun fire towards the shape. Even over the roar of his Apache's engines and rotator blades, he could hear a loud bestial screech of pain as the bullets struck it.

Moments later, the shape collided with his helicopter and latched onto it. The unexpected and high amounts of extra weight immediately sent the vehicle noise-diving uncontrollably towards the city thousands of feet under them. "I'm hit!" he was yelling over the radio. "The thing's hanging on me! I can't break free! We're going down!"

As he was yelling and fighting against his controller, trying to level out his machine, he saw the shape beginning to pull itself up in front of his cockpit. A large, ugly head pulled itself into view and Walter couldn't help but realize one thing: those reports about dragons _hadn't_ been pranks! "It's a dragon!" he yelled as he watched it open its mouth and begin taking a deep breath. "Bloody hell, it's a—!"

He never got to finish his sentence.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**10:28pm  
Ministry of Magic, Atrium**

"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, holding his wand at the ready.

"I find that hard to believe, you old fool," Voldemort answered just as calmly as his adversary. "I am well aware that the Ministry is far too busy handling that dragon to have taken notice here. But I promise you that when they do arrive, I shall be gone and you will be dead!"

He promptly sent another Killing Curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame. From his position, Harry couldn't help but anxiously wait and watch as the battle begin the two most powerful British wizards began…and promptly ended prematurely.

From high above them came a mighty crashing sound that sent dust, debris, and tremors down from the ceiling. But the loud noise didn't just end there. It grew louder and louder with each passing moment, vaguely reminding Harry of the sound of falling tree; a groaning sound that grew steadily louder as the further it fell until it finally broke free of its weakened trunk and toppled to the ground. Both of the elder wizards halted their battle to look up at the ceiling, along with Harry and Bellatrix, just in time to see the ceiling give way, a dense conflagration of flames and rubble following the collapsing structure.

With his attention focused on the falling Atrium ceiling, Harry didn't Voldemort's final attack until after he'd already launched it. A massive conflagration of Fiendfyre came rushing forward towards Harry. Where the headless statue had once been shielding him from the battle, it was now effectively pinning him to the wall and he had no way of angling his wand to aid the Headmaster or protect himself. Thus, he was unable to do anything but watch and quietly yell as the wood, rock, asphalt, and fires rushed towards and around him. But before it could reach much farther than halfway to its destination, a sudden massive tidal wave of water from Dumbledore materialized and swamped the demonic flames and drenched Harry accidentally, slowly but surely dousing the fire.

In the meantime, Voldemort and Bella did the most sensible thing a fully-trained wizard or witch could've done: they Disapparated to places unknown. Dumbledore, suitably distracted by saving and protecting Harry, barely had time to lift his wand and begin blasting away at the debris as best he could in a frantic effort to reach and protect Harry. However, thanks in part to Voldemort's parting shot, there was simply too much for even him to handle alone. But Harry had the worst of it. Again because of the statue holding him in place, he wasn't able to move or protect himself from the still falling debris.

By a strange twist of fate, it was a falling piece of marble that had struck the statue just hard enough and at just the right angle to allow Harry to wriggle free. Dodging and blasting at the caving-in ceiling with an absolute abandon, he hurried over towards where he'd last seen Headmaster Dumbledore before the chaos blocked his view. He couldn't stop himself from crying out in pain as several bits of asphalt and timber crashed into his shoulders, back, and bounced off his head. It bruised and cut his skin and clothes and cracked several bones with no regard. Even his glasses were knocked flying, which were immediately crushed afterwards.

"Professor!" he yelled out, trying to be heard over the din of the collapsing building.

But it was an effort used in vain, he couldn't hear anything besides the crashing of the rubble and he couldn't see anything besides a plethora of hazy colors and objects. Due to this blindness, he didn't notice the danger he was in until after he'd already lost his balance to the large amounts of rubble that was littering the floor. Combined with a perfectly timed boulder that struck his right shoulder, he was sent careening to the ground, screaming in pain as he drew into a fetal position. However, it seemed that Lady Luck had once again smiled upon Harry.

Had he not been in that fetal position, he wouldn't most assuredly have had both his legs and waist crushed under the weight of a large support beam that crashed to the ground quite literally right in front of him. As it was, he only cringed in pain and fear from the might crash of the wooden pillar slamming into the floor, partially shielding him from the raining debris. Looking up and around the pillar, he gasped at what he saw was coming next. All the debris that had been falling up this point could've only been called the 'appetizer'. If his fuzzy vision wasn't deceiving him, it looked like the 'main course' was about to be served. He couldn't help but closing his eyes and cringing, awaiting the inevitable.

It was a moment of mind-blinding panic and fear for Harry. He had no doubt in his mind that he would not survive what was about to come crashing down upon them. He couldn't even think; his mind and body had quite literally frozen in fear. All that remained within him was instinct. That instinct was screaming at him to run and find someplace safe. But how—where—_anywhere!_ He just _needed_ to _escape_ _**right now!**_

In a burst of accidental magic, Harry Disapparated mere seconds before the granite ceiling came crashing down and would've crushed him into little more than Potter-jelly.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**Diagon Alley**

It was a scene of complete chaos in the magical alley. The first attack on their secret alley came as a complete surprise, during which the _Daily Prophet_, Flourish and Blotts, and the Magical Menagerie were all set ablaze and were blown apart by powerful fire blasts. People were running amok trying to make sense of the situation they had found themselves in. After a couple of minutes, many of the vendors and owners of the other shops, torn from their sleep and beds, had raced out into the alley to identify the causes of the fires. By then, the flying culprit came back for another pass.

In the dark of the night and the din of the burning city, all that could be determined of the culprit was the low, but strong strokes of large wings in the smoky air. It wasn't until after the creature's second flyby, which ignited seven more merchant stands, that the wizards were finally able to realize the sheer magnitude of the disaster they were facing. It was a dragon!

It was then that the true chaos began. Looters, thieves, criminals, and anyone who desired something from one of the shops broke loose of normal society's laws. They broke down the doors of whatever shops remained untouched and began pillaging all in sight. The riots quickly spread from Diagon Alley all the way into Knockturn Alley, which inevitably triggered a large-scale battle between the less-than-reputable people and creatures inside.

The goblins, quickly sensing the danger to their stockpiles of gold, closed and secured Gringotts as several scores of their finest warriors filed out of secret passageways and set up a perimeter around the bank. A few foolish or arrogant wizards attempted to provoke the goblins into joining the fighting, but they were quickly and efficiently dealt with by the cold, savage creatures.

It was only then, about a half hour and three more passes by the dragon later, that the Aurors and many other Ministry officials finally arrived on the scene and attempted to bring order to the chaos: _attempted_ being the keyword. Should they have had no more attacks by the renegade dragon, then it was highly likely that they might've been able to bring the riots under control and save both alleys from total destruction.

But, mere minutes after their arrival, the dragon came back for yet another assault. First, it destroyed The Leaky Cauldron, which the Aurors had been in the process of converting into a hospital. This attack resulted in no less than twenty deaths, including the owner's. Then, as it was passing over, it struck the only other building that wasn't on fire, Ollivander's. The dragon fire, when it came into contact with the high-potency magic of the shop and the countless wands stored within, triggered a massive magical explosion that lit up the night sky and showered the lands with multi-colored sparks for several miles around. Whatever those sparks touched, if it wasn't magical or living, quickly burst into flames, spreading a much wider ring of destruction than anything the dragon had caused to that point.

It was an extremely large sparkling explosion that was plainly visible to even the many Muggle satellites in orbit. But because the concentration of the blast was focused skywards, it resulted in only one direct death (Mr. Ollivander himself) because he had been unable to flee the shop before the dragon scorched it. However, it was thanks to this explosion that the angry dragon fled the immediate area to continue its rampage further south and west, heading towards the suburbs.

Sadly, it wouldn't be until many, many hours and pointless fighting later that things would slowly trickle to a halt in the war zone that the Alleys had become.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**10:45pm  
London**

Screams and tremors, explosions of sound and heat, clouds of dust and smoke, it was these things that snapped Harry out of his fear-induced funk and had him looking up and around in confusion. He found himself lying upon the ground in a filthy alley. Fires were fiercely burning the buildings above and around him. Unsteadily picking himself up off the ground, wincing and groaning against his multiple injuries, and reassuring himself that he still had his wand, Harry moved towards the street ahead him. He could see the crowds of people running about in a chaotic fashion, screaming and pointing up into the skies above. The cars and buses in the street had all come to a halt, apparently after multiple fender-bender accidents.

Where was he now? He didn't recognize the street he was on since he's hardly spent any time in London. What was going on? Was it some kind of gas leak that triggered a large explosion? That was the only thing that Harry could really think of at the moment that could've caused such a tremendous amount of damage, enough to even affect the Ministry's underground building. Speaking of which, what had happened to the others? He hoped they were okay, but he had no way of knowing until he found a way back to them.

That was when a loud, eerily familiar roar pierced through the din. After what he'd gone through last year, Harry could've recognized that roar in his sleep. It was a dragon. A dragon had gotten loose in London? Where was the Ministry? Why weren't they dealing with this situation already? Or how did it already get this far along already? What was happening?

Looking in the direction that the roar had come from, Harry was among the hundreds of people who spotted the telltale silhouette of a large beast flying low over the burning city, spewing deadly flames down upon the buildings with no hesitation. Despite the fear and realization of what was coming that struck him due to what he was seeing, Harry couldn't help but stare. Why did that hazy outline of the dragon look _kinda_ familiar? Not the dragon as an individual of course, but the species. It vaguely reminded him of Norbert, Hagrid's former pet dragon hatchling. But then again, he'd never been a real expert on the different species of dragons, excluding Horntail hens and baby Ridgebacks.

"If only I had my Firebolt," Harry couldn't help but mutter as he stared up at the blurry form.

Seeing the dragon beginning to swing towards his location, Harry quickly turned and hobbled into the streets with the hundreds of Muggles who were also fleeing for their lives. With his wand firmly in hand, Harry rushed forward with the crowd as fast as he could move. He could hear the wing beats and feel the scorching fires moving quickly closer. It was almost on him! He pushed himself to ignore his pain and run faster. But it seemed that it wasn't fast enough, a faster runner knocked into him and sent him tumbling to the ground. As he fell and rolled to the side, multiple people stepped on or kicked him in their blind rush to escape. He was rolled and kicked until he met the curb and bumped into a crashed car.

As he was pulling himself to his feet, Harry noticed two things right away. First and foremost was the wing beats were quite literally on top of him. He could feel the hot winds rushing over him with each flap the dragon made. The second thing was he felt more than saw someone trip over his still-extended legs, sending them crashing to the ground next to him. It was a little girl, at least five years old.

"Fiona!" a woman's voice rang out as the brunette tried to turn around and fight against the crowd to reach her fallen daughter.

Time slowed to a crawl as Harry took in the situation and reacted. He reached out, grabbed the quickly recovering girl, and yanked her backwards into his chest as he turned his back. A split-second afterwards, a wall of dragon fire swept across the road and sidewalk as the dragon drifted to the other side of the road. The hot flames incinerated or scorched all things within their path of travel, which included the fleeing people as well. Though the fires only lasted a few moments, those were the longest moments of Harry's life as he shielded the girl from the scorching flames, almost certainly frying his backside in the process.

Once the flames had died down, Harry stood and lifted the girl with him and together they faced where they had been running. All that remained of the crowd was ashes and smoke.

"Mummy?" the girl called out, panic in her voice as she looked towards where she knew her mother had been. "Mummy?"

"Your Mum's gone," Harry said softly as he knelt to pick up the girl.

"No, _Mummy!_" the girl yelled, tears beginning to fall from her eyes as she fought against Harry's grasp to reach for the pile of ashes. "_It's not true!_ _MUMMY!_"

"Your Mum's gone," he repeated a bit more forcefully. "But I know she'd have wanted you to live. So, come with me if you want her to be happy!"

Not waiting for the girl's response, he picked her up and started heading back the way they came, _away_ from where the dragon had gone. Harry tried to block out the girl's repeated cries for her mother as he tried to correctly remember where the Grimmauld Place was located. Without being able to return to Hogwarts, it was the safest and (most importantly) the closest place he could go at this point. '_I swear that if Voldemort's the one behind this, I will make him __**suffer**__ for what he's done here._'

"_**MUMMY!**_" the young brunette's cry went mostly unheard and ignored in the chaos and death screams of the city around.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**June 26, 1996  
Wednesday, 12:01am  
Diagon Alley**

Cornelius Fudge was _not_ a happy Minister of Magic at this moment. First he'd been awakened from his much-needed sleep by a frantic Floo caller. Then he'd heard the most _ridiculous_ report of his entire career, in his opinion. An unknown attacker was burning down Diagon Alley? Utterly ridiculous! He had ranted extremely violently at the unfortunate soul who had the misfortune of calling him (it was Weatherby if he remembered right) for several minutes before finally calming down and issuing a few basic orders. The Aurors and other Departments were already scrambling to intercept the enemy, but it would take them some time to get organized, given the late hour.

Peeved that he'd be missing out on his sleep, Cornelius had decided to pay the Alley a visit in person, rather than journey to the Ministry and be swamped by mountains of pointless paperwork. No, he knew what he needed to do and it wasn't hiding in the Ministry or at home. This was his moment to secure the _total_ loyalty of the people, he realized. People wanted a leader who would step forward when things got tough. With Dumbledore missing and that damned Brat-Who-Lived at Hogwarts, this was the most golden opportunity he could've asked for. Just why did it have to take place _now?_ Nevertheless, after at least an hour, he had finally managed to dress himself, collect his wits and wand, and then Apparated directly to The Leaky Cauldron…or the flaming wreckage of what remained of it.

The Alley itself was nothing short of a maelstrom of chaos. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to get anyone to focus on him for more than a few seconds. The Aurors were too busy trying to stop the looters and rioters. Other Ministry officials were busy trying to extinguish the raging dragon fires and saving what merchandise they could of the shops before they too were burned to a crisp, only to be attacked by the Aurors who saw them carrying the goods and assumed them to be yet more thieves. Duels, magic, and even brutish muggle brawling between two or (usually) more parties was steadily tearing the Alley to even greater pieces than the dragon fires already had. After almost an hour of stumbling through the fighting and getting hit by several stray curses and jinxes, all the while trying and spectacularly failing at organizing the defenders and Aurors, Fudge had finally thrown in the towel and took up refuge near the only place that the rioters were avoiding (and with good reason). The goblin guards were leering knowingly at him, keeping their weapons firmly trained forward to ward off any potential attackers, as he sat down upon a piece of debris near him and fought to get his breath back.

"Minister, is that you?" a familiar voice called out.

Turning his weary head, Fudge spotted a very welcomed sight, Lucius Malfoy carefully walking towards him. Finally, someone of real magical talent and political importance to show his face! Perfect! With such an important and influential member of wizarding society present, he could further project the image of a strong, brave leader who seeks to protect the people, whereas Dumbledore only intends to spread fear and chaos with hearsay of You-Know-Who returning from the grave. Now he just had to give the illusion of being in control of the situation, or (in this case) in the process of getting control.

"Ah, Lucius, what a surprise to see you here," Fudge greeted pleasantly, attempting to mimic one of Dumbledore's most patented traits: calm under fire. "How can I help you this fine evening?"

Lucius' face was a slightly red and he was breathing rather heavily as he gently grabbed Fudge's shoulder and angled him towards a small opening between two nearby stores that didn't look like they were about to collapse. Once he was sure that they had at least a small portion of privacy, Lucius turned a grave look upon Fudge, which honestly spooked Fudge's already high-level paranoia. "Minister, I have unfortunate news to inform you. The Ministry has been destroyed! By Potter and Dumbledore!"

"_What?_" Fudge roared, who wasn't even heard over the din of the Alley. "Are you sure of this? How do you know? How do you know it was them?"

"I saw it with my own eyes, sir," Malfoy said loudly. "When the emergency call came, I made my way to the Ministry and was able to catch them in the midst of breaking into the Department of Mysteries Hall of Prophecy. A few other loyal employees and myself attempted to subdue them, but they brought the ceiling down upon us."

"You're fortunate to have survived!" Fudge stated amicably.

"I barely survived," Lucius muttered under his breath. That little part at least was the honest to goodness truth; he did _barely_ survive the cave-in. "The Ministry has been destroyed and we've already lost Diagon Alley. I've been informed by Ms. Bones that we're reorganizing at the Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade. I was sent to collect you, Minister."

Nodding, Fudge turned as he loudly declared, "Thank you for informing me, Mr. Malfoy. Let us be off then!"

With his back turned, Cornelius Fudge never saw Lucius raising his wand and quietly muttering out a single word. "_Imperio_."

* * *

(**AUTHOR'S NOTE**) Man, oh man. What is up with me these days? I finally get a bit of free time (as much as I loathe and enjoy it), and I suddenly begin conjuring up completely new story ideas. Granted, this particular story idea is one that I've had on the backburner for almost 8 years. I'm not kidding. When I first saw the movie '_Reign of Fire'_, I had felt so incredibly inspired to use the same general concept for an HP story. Sadly, I just couldn't think up any possible plots to go along and enhance the story with beyond the opening problems. Until now.

It's amazing how watching a new movie can help inspire or reorganize a person's story. And I have to say that I'm so happy that that new '_Robin Hood'_ came out because it's given me an entire plot to build on and augment this idea with. I hope you all can enjoy this one. Unlike 'The World Beneath', this is definitely going to take place in the 'modern world' and our scarred protagonist is going to be dealing with some very serious problems as a result.

Oh, one final note. For the moment, I have no real pairing for Harry. Excluding a few canon pairings (Hr/R), they are mostly up in the air. So, to resolve this issue, I'm posting a poll on my homepage. Please check it out at your earliest convenience so I can determine which lucky lady our hero will fall for.


	2. Simmering Aftermath

**The Outlaw**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 2—Simmering Aftermath_

**June 26, 1996  
Wednesday, 9:48pm  
Hogwarts, Infirmary**

It was an impressive, and slightly intimidating, sight that beheld the students who had the questionable luck of seeing it. Ten Aurors, clad in their proudly robes with their wands at the ready, marched through the halls of Hogwarts. They were following the lead of the _furious_ Minister Fudge as he stormed forth towards his destination. It spoke well of the survival instincts of the various students that they were quick to scramble out of the way as the troupe came into view.

Finally reaching his destination, Fudge glowered angrily as he shoved open the doors and entered the Infirmary. His sudden and noisy arrival instantly drew the attention of the various individuals who were already gathered inside; most of the Weasley family, Professors Sprout and Flitwick, and several other students. Excluding the ones who were standing, the students lying on the beds looked like they'd been through Hell and somehow survived, if just barely. He quickly recognized two of them as being Harry Potter's best friends. The red-haired girl was obviously a Weasley, and he didn't know who the other two were, but those minor details didn't matter in this regard. However there was an all-too-noticeable absence of the student he wanted most.

"Minister, what's the meaning of this?" Madam Pomfrey demanded as she moved from where she had been feeding Ms. Lovegood a potion to confront the men. "What's going on?"

"Where is Potter?" Fudge demanded, practically spitting out the name of the person he most loathed. When he didn't immediately receive a response, he turned to the Weasley boy and yelled, "You! Tell me now!"

Glaring as best he could, Ron didn't answer, knowing that Fudge wouldn't believe him anyway.

"_Where is __**Potter?**_" Fudge yelled at the room, his face dark red with marginally-suppressed anger.

"Even if we…knew," Neville managed to grunt out, drawing the attention of the rest of the room. "we…wouldn't tell you…_Minister_." He spoke the final word with a clearly heard mocking tone.

"Very well then." Glaring angrily at the young man, Fudge reached into his cloak and withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment. Holding it out, he read it out in a commanding voice, "By order of the Ministry of Magic; Educational Decree Number Twenty-Nine, students who commit crimes of vandalism, slander, libel, or terrorism against any Ministry-regulated institution or personnel shall be henceforth arrested, tried, and – if found guilty – be sentenced to time in Azkaban. _Effective immediately_."

Seeing the stunned, scared, and murderous gazes that were coming his way, Fudge barked out, "These children are all under arrest for crimes of breaking and entering into the Ministry of Magic Department of Mysteries, destroying many magical secrets and vital research, aiding in the attempted theft of a highly-classified and protected magical object, and subsequent demolition of the entire Ministry."

Mr. Weasley stood up quickly, moving from where he'd been sitting between his two hospitalized children. "Minister, you can't possibly believe—"

"_Stupefy!_" one of the Aurors barked, hitting Mr. Weasley squarely in the chest and sending him flying through the air and smashing into the wall behind him. This sudden attack caught many of the people in the room by surprise and Molly was quick to rush to her husband's side.

Not the least bit perturbed, Fudge growled out, "We're taking these criminals in, today and now. Move away or you'll be arrested as well."

"Minister, I must object!" Madam Pomfrey said, not backing down in the least. "These children are all still badly injured and require some time to heal before they can be moved! If you were to move them, their conditions would only deteriorate and they could die!"

In a move that was rather cold and uncharacteristic of Fudge, the man just turned to the gathered Aurors behind him and said, "Bind and Stun them, I want them interrogated as soon as they're brought to the Three Broomsticks. Use Veritaserum if they try to resist or start spouting lies."

"You'll be endangering their lives!" Madam Pomfrey yelled incredulously, her face starting to turn a bright red of anger. "Minister, you can't do this!"

Fudge paused long enough to turn back to Pomfrey, "I already have."

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire – Robin Hood

**June 27, 1996  
Thursday, 1:42pm  
London, 12 Grimmauld Place**

**LONDON IN ASHES!**_  
-Written by Shane Instone – _The Quibbler  
_June 26, 1996_

_With loss of the Daily Prophet's main office, we are only now managing to bring you the latest news of what has happened. At shortly before 9pm, 26 June 1996, a dragon suddenly and violently attacked London with no warning. The dragon's brutal attack has burned much of Muggle London down, destroyed Diagon Alley, and collapsed the Ministry of Magic._

_Substantial evidence has come to light that last night's dragon attack is the fault of the Muggles. They were digging a tunnel for an extension of their new Underground tube system when they cut their straight into the holding pen of Gringotts Bank. Gringotts has historically and periodically stored dragons within the deeper reaches of the bank, in which to protect the more valuable and influential of safety deposits. However the purchase, training, and use of guard dragons are very expensive endeavors. Given the recent boom in dragon population, they had gotten a newer specimen (a Hebridean Black) to replace their current and __**very old**__ guardian._

_Though it is unknown just how many have been killed, preliminary estimates are that almost a three dozen Witches and Wizards were killed during the incident, with Muggle causalities believed to be well within the thousands. But, as previously stated, the Magical World didn't escape unscathed either. The Ministry of Magic has sustained tremendous structural damage, with Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley being reduced to ashes. Hogsmeade now serves as the temporary headquarters of the Ministry and Alleys until a reconstruction effort can be initiated._

_We, of _TheQuibbler_, shall endeavor to keep you all properly informed as the stories develop…_

**MOST UNDESIRABLE  
THE BOY-WHO-LIVED CAUGHT IN THE ACT!**_  
-Written by Rita Skeeter – _The Quibbler  
_-June 27, 1996_

_The Boy-Who-Lived has finally shown his true colors. The boy who we have all revered until just recently has been caught in an act of terrorism against the Ministry of Magic. In the same night of the dragon attack that has sent our world in chaos, the boy and several of his followers were sighted entering the Ministry of Magic afterhours. Though what they were after remains a mystery, irrefutable proof has come to light that he had been seeking something in the Department of Mysteries, to which sustained extensive damage prior to the building's collapse._

_Had it not been for a small group of honest and highly-respectable Ministry employees who had been working the late shift and noticed his intrusion, it is very likely that the boy would've succeeded in his goals. However, in the ensuring firefight, which resulted in deliberate and catastrophic damage to the building's foundations and structure, the Ministry was completely destroyed. At this time, it is still unknown to the whereabouts of Harry Potter and his companions, or whether they had survived the collapse of the building at all. Recovery efforts are already underway to scour the wreckage for any signs of survivors._

_But this reporter cannot help but question the unique events and the timing. How was it that Potter had been able to so easily penetrate as deeply into the Ministry as he did? How was it that this intrusion happened at exactly the same time as the dragon's first appearance and subsequent assault of Diagon Alley? Or the many rioters and looters who ravaged our beloved Alley further? The answer is quite obvious: he had staged this whole affair. Given his headstrong beliefs in his own righteousness and a powerful mental instability in regards to certain subjects of interest, this reporter finds it highly probable that he was in fact the one to cause this unmitigated disaster._

_Forty-seven witches and thirty-two wizards dead, nineteen magical shops destroyed and pillaged, the Ministry in ruins, and an as yet undetermined amount of damage done. Yes, Mr. Harry James Potter has many crimes to make amends on. We, formerly of the _Daily Prophet_, strongly support the Minister's declaration of Harry Potter being elevated to the status of __**Most Undesirable**__ and we are eager to see this __**clearly dangerous**__ outlaw be imprisoned in Azkaban for his many crimes against us, the people of the Wizarding World, upon his discovery!_

_The Minister has instigated a martial law in hopes of rooting out the Undesirable from wherever he may be hiding. Minister Fudge has also begun imposing many new reforms to further aid the Aurors in the hunting and capture of this criminal. We, of the Daily Prophet, strongly urge the citizens of the Wizarding World to report any and all sightings of the Most Undesirable to the nearest Ministry employee immediately._

"So much for Hermione keeping her under control," Harry muttered darkly as he threw the newspaper into the fire.

In the chaos that was left behind following that dragon's rampage, it had taken Harry the rest of the evening and well into the early morning to find his way to 12 Grimmauld Place. During that trek, he had been able to safely deliver the small girl he'd rescued to a police station that had more or less managed to survive complete destruction that had been wrought during the night, state his name and what had happened to her, and promptly left. Because he couldn't Apparate or make Portkeys, as well as being trapped in the heart of Muggle London, alone, he had no way of contacting anyone.

Grimmauld Place was deserted when he finally stumbled into it shortly after the morning sun had risen. But he paid the lack of activity no mind as he dragged himself upstairs and collapsed onto the closest bed he could find. After such an exhausting day, an even more tiring night, several traumatic experiences, and many painful bruises and injuries, he had fallen asleep before his head had even touched the pillow. He was so completely exhausted that he slept throughout the remainder of the day, finally awakening in the early hours of Thursday. Then he spent the next six hours grieving over Sirius' death. If it weren't for his bodily needs, he probably would've remained in that bedroom for the rest of the week. As such, it had taken a surprising amount of willpower for Harry to force himself out of bed, make his way to the bathroom to freshen up, and then head down to the kitchen.

At first, he had tried to use the Floo to reach the Burrow, or even Hogwarts, but the magical connection didn't seem to be working at the moment. It was as he was starting to get frustrated by the lack of success that he had a sudden epiphany. The Floo was probably integrated and controlled by the Ministry. And with the Ministry being little more than rubble…the chances of Harry making contact with anyone at the moment were likely very slim. All he could do was stay here and wait for someone to show up or for an owl to find him. With these bleak thoughts, he went about finding himself a quick lunch to feed his positively ravenous appetite. It was as he was finishing his third bowl of cereal that he noticed the newspaper that had been thrown haphazardly onto the counter in the far side of the kitchen.

Though he frankly shouldn't have been surprised, given what they'd been doing to him for the past year, it still deeply irritated him to realize that the Minister was blaming _everything_, even the dragon attack (which he'd had no idea was _happening!_) on him. But what really was getting Harry's hackles raised was the term 'Undesirable'. He may not have heard of that term before, but he felt that it was safe to assume that it ran along the same lines as the Muggle phrase 'Most Wanted'. So he (and likely his friends) was now _officially_ a criminal and an enemy of the state?

Looking away from the burning paper, Harry absentmindedly picked up his empty bowl and moved to the sink to clean it, still lost in his thoughts. Though he could likely understand the possible reasons for it, Harry couldn't understand why no one from the Order had yet shown up at 12 Grimmauld Place. With all the chaos that was taking place in Magical Britain due to the destruction of the Ministry and the magical Alleys, every available employee was likely being pulled into doing overtime as they sought to reestablish order and (hopefully) open the Floo connections again.

A sudden soft pop startled Harry as he spun around to face the source of the noise. Even without his glasses, he was easily able to recognize the person before him. It was Albus Dumbledore himself.

"Professor!" Harry uttered in surprise. He hadn't been sure who might've appeared, but he most certainly hadn't been expecting Dumbledore to do it himself!

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, smiling softly with a gentle twinkle in his eye. "So you did manage to find your way here. It is such a relief to me to know this and it's very fortunate that you are here safe. You're not injured, are you, Harry?"

Shaking his head silently, Harry stared up at the old man with a hesitant gaze. "Professor, where are…how are…"

"Your friends are safe and alive, Harry," the old Professor inserted calmly. "When the Ministry began to collapse and I saw you Disapparate, I and the other Order members there were able to collect your friends and bring them back to Hogwarts. Last I heard, they were resting and healing now. I believe most of them will be fully recovered by the end of today…But first, I believe there's something you're missing. Here you go, my boy."

As he was speaking, he withdrew something from his sleeves and placed it upon Harry's face. It took a mere second for Harry to realize that the old man had just placed a fresh set of glasses upon his face. Harry let out an audible sigh of relief that he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. He could see again and at least his friends had survived; two small bright spots in an otherwise bad day.

"Thank you, sir," he muttered to himself as he leaned heavily against the sink behind him.

After a moment's pause, Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who seemed to be letting him collect his thoughts, and asked, "So what now? Are you here to bring me back to Hogwarts, sir?"

A pained look crossed Dumbledore's face as the eye-twinkle faded. That was answer enough for Harry. Nevertheless, Dumbledore responded to the question as he beckoned the boy to sit down at the kitchen table. "Unfortunately, I cannot permit you to return to school just yet, Harry. In case you're unaware, Minister Fudge has declared you a criminal and ordered all Aurors and Ministry employees to hunt you down once the recovery and reconstruction efforts have been properly planned and initiated. They will be watching Hogwarts closely in the event that you do attempt to return."

Nodding slowly as the gravity of the situation began to take hold of him, he said, "But since the end of term is only three days away, it doesn't really matter that I'd miss a couple of days. Will it, Professor? Oh, what about my stuff?"

Without a word, Dumbledore reached into a pocket of his robe and extracted a small box. Only after he'd laid it on the floor in front of Harry, did the boy realize that it was school trunk, miniaturized. With a muttered incantation, Dumbledore unshrunk the trunk and received a grateful nod from Harry. "Thank you, sir… "But what about—?"

"I believe your owl is currently making her way here as we speak," Dumbledore interrupted softly, a knowing sparkle in his eye as he watched Harry visibly sag in relief. After only a split-second, the tension returned full-force as the boy turned his gaze back upon his mentor.

"If can't go to Hogwarts, where will I go now? Back to the Dursleys?" He made no attempt to keep the venom and dislike out of his voice as he uttered that final statement.

"Unfortunately, no," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, his voice and expression strictly neutral. That answer immediately drew Harry's attention. "You probably aren't aware of the sheer magnitude of the damage inflicted upon Diagon Alley and London, are you, Harry?"

"I did read a little bit of what happened in a few newspapers, but nothing specific was mentioned, sir," Harry said quietly. "But I did see a lot of…strange damage and a very big explosion when I was coming here the other night."

Nodding at that statement, Dumbledore sighed wearily, "That explosion you had seen was the wand shop of Ollivander's being destroyed when the dragon hit it." Harry couldn't help but gawk at that statement. "The power of the explosion seems to have had an unforeseen effect upon London. It triggered many fires all across the city and much of the suburbs. Though no Muggles seem to have been killed by the magical explosion, there is extensive collateral damage to countless buildings and property… Your relative's home has been burnt down as well and I have yet to be able to locate them."

"They probably fled the country…if they're still alive," Harry couldn't help muttering under his breath as he sent a blank, stupefied stare at the man. The Dursleys' home was gone? They picture-perfect house, the perfectly trimmed lawn, the tidy front garden, and everything that they'd ever prided themselves on because it was – right to very _definition_ of the word – ordinary. All of it was gone in a single magical explosion? For some reason that he couldn't understand, this knowledge caused a strange twisting knot to form inside him.

"Hm, perhaps they did," Dumbledore responded to Harry's whispered statement. "Then I shall likely have to look a bit more abroad than I have been. In the meantime, we have no choice to keep you safely here until things calm down."

Returning his attention to the Headmaster, Harry's dumbfounded confusion was quickly turning to anger as his brain registered and understood the implications of just what the Professor had said. "Why? Why do I have to _go back_ to the _Dursleys_ _at __**all?**_"

Dumbledore returned his attention to Harry, his eyes boring down into the boy's unwavering and angry gaze. With a heavy sigh of resignation, Dumbledore said, "Harry, I do believe it is past time that I shared with you some information that I probably should've a long time ago. Starting with the prophecy that Voldemort was after the other night."

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire – Robin Hood

**Thursday, 6:14pm  
London, 12 Grimmauld Place**

Harry had never been one to lose control of his emotions, unless it was under some very serious conditions or distress. After Dumbledore had explained to him the reasons behind the fiasco and the death of his godfather that had tormented Harry, what the secret of the prophecy had been, why he hadn't been told before, why he had to keep going back to the Dursleys, and what the situation of his current status was…well, Harry had reduced most of everything that he could get his hands on in the kitchen to debris in his violent need to break something tangible. Once he had calmed down enough to 'accept' the truth of Dumbledore's words and think about the possible and likely outcomes of his newly-revealed fate, he had promptly walked away to sulk in his bedroom. He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore was still there or not, but he wouldn't have been surprised either way.

So, he had to either kill Voldemort or be killed. Why he had to always return to the Dursleys was because his mother's blood in Aunt Petunia's veins would help to reinforce the protection Lily had died to give him from Voldemort. And Sirius had been killed due to his own laziness in practicing Occlumency, which allowed him to be tricked by an illusion of Lord Voldemort and the lies of Sirius' repulsive and disloyal house-elf Kreacher. And it was that last part that was really gnawing on his conscious: Sirius was dead. If it didn't go against his nature, Harry would've sought out Kreacher and strangled the little demon with his own two hands.

He tried everything he could to put the sad truth out of his mind, but his very presence inside the place that his godfather once lived made it all the more improbable. The knowledge that he was inside his godfather's house, the memories he had of the man inside the said house, and the cold reality of knowing that those shared times together would never be repeated caused Harry to remain in a state of depression scarcely above contemplating suicide. As far as he was concerned, it should've been himself who'd been killed by Bellatrix and not his godfather. It would've been a fair trade wouldn't it? Give the man who'd been ripped from his prime a chance to live the remainder of his life in relative happiness in exchange for the life a teenager who was now likely going to be hunted for the rest of days until his eventual (highly probable) death at the hands of the Dark Lord.

At this point, Harry would've gladly given almost everything he owned to have been able to leave the house that felt like such a prison. But he couldn't even do that, again according to Dumbledore. Apparently with the Dursley home destroyed and the family missing, his mother's protection and the blood wards would be null and void until he returned to them for a short time. And during this time of weakness, he was wide open to attack from all sides, particularly the Ministry and Death Eaters. And until the Dursleys were found, he had no choice but to remain hidden in the ancestral Black family house because not even the Burrow had all the protections and enchantments that the Grimmauld Place had. His status as the most wanted outlaw in all of Magical Britain certainly didn't help matters much either.

Sighing in resignation, Harry climbed to his feet and moved out of the bedroom. He needed something to do in the dark, depressing house. But because of the very nature of the house, his choices of entertainment were strictly limited to whatever lay in his old Hogwarts trunk. He couldn't even do magic on extremely strict orders of Dumbledore, who'd explained to him about the Trace that all underage wizards had.

If he used his wand for magic, no matter what the reason, the Ministry would know almost exactly his approximate whereabouts. At the very least, they'd find the road that 12 Grimmauld Place was located on and they'd keep the area under observation until he eventually showed himself. And although he still possessed his Invisibility Cloak, under the graces of Dumbledore, he had no real desire of venturing into Muggle London due to the risk of being spotted by a passing wizard.

Moving down into the kitchen again, Harry found himself not overly surprised to see that all that he'd broken and destroyed had been repaired, likely by Dumbledore or, however unlikely, Kreacher. But he paid that no mind as he moved to where the unopened school trunk was lying. Kicking it open, Harry rifled through his things.

Despite his depressed funk, Harry couldn't help but smile in gratitude as he realized something interesting. Professor Dumbledore had apparently expanded the interior of the trunk and filled it with all of Harry's personal belongings, which included his many school supplies, clothing, Quidditch supplies, and his other various knick-knacks that he held onto for sentimental value. He wanted, no _needed_, to find something that would take his mind off of his problems.

And then, he found them, stashed away in the midst of his other school books. Six new additions to his collection of books, all of them were old, heavily worn, several had their spines bent in places, multiple loose pages protruded past the faded covers, and most of the covers' corners were nicked and bruised. The book that he was currently examining was titled '_Advanced Potion-Making_' by Libatius Borage.

"Where did this come from?" he asked himself as he opened the cover. As he opened the cover, he quickly noticed a piece of newer parchment that was lying between the cover and the first page. Picking it out, it read,

'_Dear Harry,_

_With what's happening in Diagon Alley and the Ministry, I felt it prudent to supply you with a spare set of old copies of your next year's school books that the Professors had on hand. Please remember to __**not**__ attempt to cast any spells until after we've managed to clear up the problems with the Ministry._

_Professor Dumbledore_'

Despite his still slightly lingering resentment towards the Headmaster, he couldn't help but chuckle softly for a moment in appreciation. If what he'd read in _The Quibbler_ was actually accurate for once, then students purchasing new school supplies would be very hard-pressed to acquire anything, most especially their textbooks with the burning of Flourish and Blotts. For the Headmaster to have gone out of his way like this…it was a much-needed boost to his day for Harry.

Curiously, Harry slid the note aside and took a set at the kitchen table to read his newest Potion book. He may not have passed his Potions O.W.L. to allow him to become an Auror, but what else did he have to do with his time today? Upon opening to the page of the first potion, he immediately lost whatever good feelings he managed to dredge up.

Whoever the previous owner had been had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Flipping quickly through the pages, he saw that there was barely a page on which the previous owner had not made additional notes, and not all of them concerned with potion-making either. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells that the person had made up him or herself. As he was flipping towards the back, he noticed something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the rest of the instructions.

_This is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince_.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry flipped back to a random page and came upon the 'Calming Potion'. After reading the notations (both the official and the Prince's versions) of what the potion could do if used properly, Harry set about finding the ingredients. If nothing else, maybe brewing a Calming Potion would help him ease his pain of losing Sirius for the moment. Plus, he couldn't help but be curious on whether this 'Prince's alterations would work in comparison to what the official instructions were.

In his focus on solving this 'mystery', Harry failed to notice an owl arrive and drop off a rolled up newspaper. In big, bold black letters that filled up the entirety of the top portion of the newspaper was an ominous title.

**DRAGON CONTAINMENT PRESERVES FAIL! DRAGONS ON THE LOOSE!  
INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS SCRAMBLE!**

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire – Robin Hood

**June 30, 1996  
Sunday, 6:38am  
Malfoy Manor, Library**

While the Wizarding World was contemplating how to locate and detain the youngest and most villainous outlaw in their history, Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort was clenching his teeth in frustration as he stared at the blueprints to Hogwarts Castle. He was in the personal library of Lucius Malfoy; one of the few places in the Pureblood's home where he could expect to be (mostly) free of molestation of the many incompetents under his banner, excluding a select few.

Setting the castle's ancient designs to the side, he leaned back in the chair he sat in with a heavy sigh. Despite what many of his minions may have thought, Voldemort was far from thrilled over the recent turn of events. He may have failed to acquire the prophecy, killing either Dumbledore or Potter. Lucius may have succeeded in placing the Minister under the Imperius, ensuring his cooperation and unknowing loyalty to their cause. Lucius and several of the other noble Purebloods had also blackmailed several important Wizengamot members and Ministry officials. With the wondrous luck of having the dragon attack to stir up so much chaos and confusion, Voldemort and the Death Eaters now had the Minister exactly where they wanted it. They could soon move into the open without having to face a Ministry that would galvanize the Wizarding world against their cause.

Had that one dragon attack against London have been the end of it, Voldemort would've been rejoicing in their near-victory along with his minions. But it was the recent and unexpected escape of the dragons from their preserves that caused him great concern, easily dampening his celebratory mood. Though the fear and destruction that the dragons could cause would be helpful beyond measure to Voldemort's short-term plans, they were a definite hindrance to the long-term. If they couldn't be dealt with, and soon, his plans for world domination and purification would never reach beyond the shores of Great Britain. Perhaps he might've been able to take hold and purify Ireland as well, but that was being more optimistic than Voldemort was really ready to accept.

That was the biggest variable in his scheme, and had him the most concerned as well. But there were other ones, more immediate that he needed to deal with before he could turn his attention more abroad. The most imminent concern was the assassinations or _persuasions_ of specific Wizengamot members who supported or tolerated the presences of Mudbloods and Half-Bloods in their society.

Bones would soon be dead, and it was important to neutralize Dumbledore and Potter as much as possible. Granted, he already had the Minister labeling Potter as an Undesirable, warranted his immediate arrest and sentencing to Azkaban. And though the Minister had more or less removed Dumbledore from Hogwarts, it made the elderly wizard all the more dangerous because he was no longer restricted to watching over the school and could now take a more active role against the Death Eaters and Voldemort. And finally, Potter's whereabouts were currently unknown.

The second most important goal he had was trying to figure out the most efficient means of breaching Hogwarts and laying a trap to exterminate Dumbledore when he eventually returned to the school. Snape's continuing position as a professor in the school was an invaluable asset, making him a truly irreplaceable pawn in his game. But Voldemort had some high hopes for his next generation of Death Eaters, specifically the Malfoy heir who was scheduled to receive the Dark Mark in a few short weeks. The boy may have only been marginally more powerful than the common wizard, but he was quite talented in his own right. And while he didn't possess the wisdom to fully think his decisions through or the self-restraint to hold his tongue when it was necessary, the boy did possess a respectably good head on his shoulders when compared to his classmates. With him inside Hogwarts aiding Snape from behind the scenes, he could be just the wild card the Death Eaters needed.

Snape's news that Potter had disappeared during the dragon attack on London was both good and bad for their cause. On the one hand, it was now impossible to launch a strike against the boy at Hogwarts. On the other, he was no longer under Dumbledore's direct protection. Voldemort didn't know if Potter had survived or where he may be hiding. He was clearly in some kind of safe house of Dumbledore's, but he just couldn't figure out where. He had tried entering the boy's still largely unprotected mind, but found that the boy had confined himself to filthy, dark room and was grieving over the loss of his godfather. As much as he enjoyed the boy's misery, he just couldn't stand being in the boy's mind for more than a few minutes.

That war was approaching rapidly. But with Fudge, and the Ministry by extension, now in his pocket, with the assassinations, all that would remain of the resistance was Dumbledore's little group and their icon, Potter. Hopefully, once they finally killed both of them, the back of the resistance would be broken before it could truly organize and then Voldemort could truly turn his attention to the more pressing matter of exterminating the dragons before they removed any chance he had at his long-term goals.

_Soon_, he thought with some relief, _soon we will be ready_.

* * *

(**AUTHOR'S NOTE**) Well, there you have it. Voldemort's immediate plans for the future.

You know, this is something I never quite understood in canon. If Lucius was so close to Fudge in canon, why didn't he put the imbecile under the Imperius sooner? Then they wouldn't have needed to go through the hassle of assassinating the next Minister in order to put their own puppet on the throne, so to speak? This way has seriously cut back on a lot of time for Voldemort.

And now with Harry as a wanted criminal, unable to do magic thanks to the Trace, and separated from his friends, the odds are HEAVILY stacked against him. If anyone's got any suggestions or ideas for what could/should happen in the near-future, please don't hesitate to voice them. Granted, I may not use them if they're contradictory to what I've got planned.


	3. Rescue Operation

**The Outlaw**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 3—Rescue Operation_

**July 1, 1996  
Monday, 8:52pm  
England, Wiltshire, Stonehenge**

It was with an air of exhausted resignation that the secret gathering of the Order of the Phoenix convened. They were inside a secret chamber situated beneath an ancient site of magical rituals and astronomy, a site that the Muggles now called Stonehenge. Stonehenge had once been the epicenter of all things magical in ancient Great Britain until the creation of the first wands. Now, it was an abandoned relic of ages past that the first wizards had left to rot in the hands of the ignorant Muggles.

It was also the location of where a certain disgraced Headmaster had been hiding since his near-arrest from his own school.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked grimly as he looked around the room. The only person missing was Professor Severus Snape, who was back at Hogwarts 'holding down the fort' in the Muggle term.

"There were at least fifteen attacks last night by unknown assailants," Moody snarled in answer. "All of them had been against members of the Wizengamot or upper-level Ministry employees most of whom I know to have had rather lenient views on Muggle-borns and Half-bloods. Madam Bones was among those killed. The _Daily Prophet_ is already blaming the attack on terrorist immigrants, who maybe were even working for our little 'Outlaw'."

"That's not all," Kingsley added, his demeanor of weary exhaustion. "I was tasked with aiding in the Minister's latest action. He's ordered St. Mungo's abandoned and relocated to Hogsmeade to be 'held under the protection of the Ministry itself'. However, I've heard some rumors that there's a number of patients and staff members who've gone missing and a few patients who've died while in transit during the relocation. So far they are reporting six dead, thirteen missing, and thirty-four whose wounds have deteriorated significantly.

"It's true," Bill said. "The Minister seems to have a commissioned a significant number of Gringotts' cursebreakers and ward masters to help in the construction of a lot of new buildings and shelters in Hogsmeade. There's a rumor in Gringotts that he's even negotiating with the Goblins into relocating the bank into Hogsmeade, or at least making a new office building with access to the vaults available."

Mundungus Fletcher raised his hand slightly, drawing most of the occupants' attentions. "I have heard rumors among some Undesirables of what sounds like werewolf attacks on at least six small Muggle villages with no known survivors and quite a few missing teenagers and children. And odds are that even if they are alive, the missing ones have been bitten by now."

"Has the Ministry heard of this?" Dumbledore asked as he turned to face the Aurors present, doing his absolute best to not look as disturbed by the extremely grim news as he actually was.

"No, this is the first I've heard of this," Tonks answered immediately, looking quite unsettled about that fact.

"Things are crazy at the Three Broomsticks," Kingsley reminded everyone. "Everyone's running around trying to do to be helpful, and only getting in the way, forgetting things, and getting lost. I'm not too surprised by this." That statement left an unease silence in the room for a few moments.

"Um…I heard that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has been trying to keep track of the swarms of Hebridean Blacks and Welsh Greens since their escape from the preserve," Arthur Weasley said. "If I remember right, some dragons seem to be breaking away from the swarms to go off on their own, but the majority of the Blacks are heading south, towards London."

"Maybe that's the reason why Fudge ordered St. Mungo's evacuated," Kingsley muttered aloud, more to himself than anyone else.

"Will Harry be safe?" Molly asked immediately, her voice drowning out Kingsley's.

"Never fear, Molly," Dumbledore said, trying to smile genially. "Remember, the house is protected by many layers of wards and enchantments. And, should those not be enough, I trust Harry will be more than capable of using his Firebolt to escape London as he did during the Triwizard Tournament."

That remark drew a soft, knowing smile from Fleur as she vividly remembered Harry easily out-flying that hen dragon from the previous year. Oh yes, she had little doubt of Dumbledore's claims in that regard.

"_Albus!_ That was _one_ dragon!" Molly shrieked, disbelieving what she'd just heard the Headmaster say. "And even then, he was surrounded by wizards who'd have been able and willing to protect him if things went wrong!"

"That is true, Mrs. Weasley," Dumbledore conceded. "But I think you may be underestimating Harry's abilities if the worst were to happen. Harry has a knack for surviving the improbable. However, if it'll reassure you, you may set up a rotation of supervision watches for any volunteers." This statement seemed to _slightly_ appease the Weasley matriarch and several others in the room. "…Now, let's focus on other things."

"Still, I think it would be best to relocate Harry to a safer location," Molly continued to press. "The Blacks are heading to London, and Harry still doesn't even have any supervision at the moment. When the dragons reach him, he'll be all alone and not know where to go. And you surely remember his reaction to being isolated last summer, don't you?"

Having expected this type of answer, Dumbledore merely nodded to acknowledge her point. "I have not forgotten, nor have I not considered bringing Harry here. However, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that with the crisis in the Ministry, as well as labeling Harry an Undesirable, they'll be keeping a rather close eye upon their workers and citizens, especially those who have been in contact with myself or agree with Harry's claims. They will surely take notice if he were start hiding anywhere else, or if some members of their offices start taking suspiciously long breaks to check up on Harry. If we were to bring him here, he would inevitably feel obligated to join us in meetings and our resistance. And he's not ready for this level of involvement yet."

Privately, he admitted to himself just how dangerous it would be if the wards of the Black house did fall and he was forced to flee on his own. Though he regretted doing it, Dumbledore had lied to the boy when he told Harry about the Trace still being active, despite the Ministry's destruction. He had lied to Harry in an attempt to keep him from doing anything reckless when he began to feel restless. And with the Ministry being out of commission and struggling, maintaining the secrecy of the Wizarding World had to be given the utmost importance. Simply put, despite the boy's awareness of the laws and the dangers he was and would be in, Dumbledore found that he couldn't trust Harry to not use blatant magic in front of Muggles if the situation was dire enough.

Turning to her boyfriend, Fleur quietly asked, "But wouldn't he be noticed if he had to flee London on his Firebolt?" Her answer was a simple shrug from the redhead; he didn't know.

With a small sigh, Dumbledore turned his attention back to the official meeting. Despite knowing that the situation would be grim, Dumbledore still felt shocked at the news. This was _far_ worse and many times more aggressive than he'd have thought Tom to have been willing to be at this point. Turning to Moody, he asked, "Were any of the attackers caught or identified?"

"No," the aged Auror grunted. "And while they didn't use the Dark Mark, I'd wager my eye here to bet that most of these attacks were done by Death Eaters. In fact, I was onsite at Bones Keep a short while after the attack and I swear that I recognize that kind of damage to the Keep as being the Lestrange's handiwork."

"What is he planning?" Bill Weasley asked in agitation. His beautiful Veela girlfriend silently patted his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. "Surely there's a reason why he'd try to go through all this hassle."

"There is a reason, William," Dumbledore said wisely. "There is always a reason. And it's up to us to figure that reason out." As he swept his gaze over the room, Dumbledore noticed that Molly and Arthur seemed to be unusually distracted and depressed. "Molly, never fear. We will do our best to get the children out of harm's way."

"I know, Professor," Molly uttered in a now very subdued tone.

"What shall we do with Fudge?" Moody asked, taking control of the meeting. "We've all met the man and seen his level of competence. He's a bureaucrat, and a man who's not even fit to be leading a country during times of peace and order. For him to react to the disasters caused by the dragons this smoothly and efficiently is something that should simply be too far out of his league… The man must be in league with Lord Voldemort."

Before Dumbledore could reply, Molly spoke up, "That man has issued an Educational Decree that treats all underage students as adults, Professor!" As she spoke, her voice began to rise in volume very quickly. "However mad he may be, there should've been little chance that he'd have ever issued such a Decree!" At this point, she'd risen to her feet and was literally yelling across the table. Only after she'd finished did she allow herself to be politely returned to her seat by Arthur.

"I agree with Molly," Tonks said quietly. "While he might've been able to use it as an excuse to arrest the kids, he should've known that such a Decree could ruin his credibility and alienate him from the students and parents. Things like that could only inevitably lead towards his removal from office."

There was a moment of silence in the room. All of the others silently agreed with Tonks' reasoning and Molly's righteous anger.

Sighing heavily and resignedly, Dumbledore nodded and gazed over at his longtime friend and companion. "Yes, I'm afraid that I must agree with you. He has been acting surprisingly confident and coordinated in response to this crisis. While I wish it weren't so, I believe as well that the Minister has joined forces with the Dark Lord, unintentionally or not."

"So, what's to be done?" Fleur asked quietly, reminding everyone of her presence in the meeting. "Confront the Minister? Save Harry's friends from Azkaban?"

Sighing heavily, Dumbledore said, "Kingsley, Nymphadora, I want you to keep as close an eye on the Minister as you can, look for signs of him possibly being under the Imperius Curse. Also, try to determine how the Ministry employees are reacting to the new changes the Minister has been issuing, but try to be as discreet as you can be." When he received their nods of approval, he turned to Moody, "Alastor, you're in charge of organizing a rescue team and leading the mission to save the kids before they're taken to Azkaban. Leave no one behind and hide your presence as best as you can. Take them to a safe location, where the Ministry won't find them until it's safe to come out." Moody grunted in affirmative, accepting the new mission. "The rest of you, please go about your usual duties. And be on the lookout, we don't know what the Dark Lord's next move will be."

"What about you, Professor?" Mundungus asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "What'll you be doing, sir?"

"Me?" Dumbledore said in an innocent tone. "Why I'll be visiting an old friend of mine…Horace Slughorn."

That answer brought a number of confused glances around the table. Why wasn't the Headmaster focusing on defeating the Dark Lord instead?

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**9:03pm  
The Burrow**

With a pair of soft pops, the elder Weasleys appeared in the small brush area that was a short walking distance from their home. In Arthur's hands were several bags of shopping and grocery supplies (their cover story for leaving their home tonight). With his wand within easy grabbing distance, he was keeping his eyes trained on their surroundings as they made their way home. In Molly's hands was a roll of parchment that she was studying with utmost intensity. The parchment contained the names and times of various volunteers in the Order who wished to drop in and look after Harry. Since she had the most uninterrupted time available and her near-obsessive need to look after and protect the boy, Molly had been quickly declared the 'official' leader in scheduling Harry's supervision.

It was a sigh of relief that Arthur let out as he and Molly entered their property and walked up to their home. After doing a customary check of the wards for any malevolent intruders and receiving a negative, he entered and ushered his distracted wife inside before quickly joining her. It wasn't until he'd turned around after closing the door that he spotted something that didn't belong. A dark cloaked figure stood nonchalantly in front of the family clock, a man by the build of its physique, but his arm was out and pointing a wand in the duo's direction without even sparing them a glance.

"_Petrificus Totalus_," the man said casually before Arthur could even consider dropping his luggage and drawing his wand. The man's spell caught both Weasleys instantly, roughly yanking Molly's attention out of her musings and onto the situation they were in. Before either of the Weasleys tipped and fell over, the cloaked man waved his wand and cast a silent _Mobilicorpus_ on them, angling his captives to rest against the wall by the hearth.

The cloaked man walked forward without a word towards his captives, who were glaring at him in equal measures of anger and fear. Due to his keeping his hood up, the man's face was completely hidden from view thanks to the deep shadows that were cast by it. Arthur and Molly couldn't help but try to struggle against the spell holding them as he moved ever closer to them. Was this man one of the Dark Lord's assassins or a new Death Eater?

Reaching forward towards Molly, the man easily pried the parchment from her fingers and held it up to read it. Struggling even more intensely, the husband and wife attempted to break the spell and attack the man. But it was a futile attempt; the spell was far too powerful for them. Despite the situation, Arthur couldn't help but question himself: why weren't they dead or in pain yet? If this man was truly with the Dark Lord, then surely he'd have had no compunctions against using some of the more 'imaginative' methods of exacting information. Merlin knew that nearly all Death Eaters of the previous war had a tender love for gloating the faces of their captives and soon-to-be victims either before, during, or after they'd tortured them.

Looking up slightly from the parchment, the man's posture seemed to radiate…some kind of emotion that Arthur just couldn't place without seeing his expression. Then, without missing a beat, the intruder held up his wand and pointed it directly into Molly's face as he turned to fully face her. "_Legilimens_."

It was with a sudden new alarm that Arthur redoubled his futile struggles against the spell that held him still. Molly's eyes had glazed over as the man entered her mind and began rifling through whatever he chose to view. If this was a Death Eater, he could easily tell the Dark Lord of Dumbledore's plans of countering him, who was in the Order, what they were doing or hoped to do, where to find Dumbledore, and anything else he might find to be incriminating. He had to stop him, and _now!_ The man's search through Molly's mind apparently was satisfied after only a few moments. Withdrawing away from the plump woman, the man turned his wand towards Arthur who tried to close and avert his eyes, only to have them pried open by the man.

"_Legilimens_," the man uttered quietly before Arthur's mind erupted in a cascading shower of random images and memories. Memories that started from when he had first started at Hogwarts, meeting Molly, graduating Hogwarts and marrying Molly, fighting in the first war against Voldemort alongside various members of the Wizarding World and the original Order of the Phoenix, the births of his children, his life after Voldemort's defeat, meeting and living with Harry Potter throughout previous few years, and finally culminating with the crisis and hysteria of the dragons escape and the new wave of killings and confusion that was spreading through Great Britain like an epidemic. The entire process felt like it took hours, but in reality it happened in only a few moments time.

If he'd have been able to, Arthur would've yelled out in rage at the man after he withdrew from his mind. Instead, all he could do was watch as the man drew back and began to slowly pace back and forth in the small room, clearly thinking over what he'd seen in the minds of the two captives. Then after a moment of this, he stopped and faced them again with his wand. The man said one word, "_Obliviate!_"

Arthur's mind went blank.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**10:00pm  
Hogsmeade, Three Broomsticks**

Ron was pacing the room they were locked in with a restless vigor. He'd been doing it ever since he'd been brought back from his own session of ruthless interrogation. His endless pacing was also quickly wearing on the nerves of one of the other captives who were also in the locked room they were trapped in. Though she could understand his worry and anxiety for their mutual missing friend, this is was getting just ridiculous.

"Ron, please, for the love of all that is holy and just, _sit down_ and relax!" Hermione barked, her irritation showing in her voice.

Stopping and looking over at his remaining friends, Ron saw them all nod in silent agreement with the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Sorry," he muttered moodily. "I just can't stand this bloody farce that the Minister has been doing these past few days. It's bloody ridiculous, even for him!"

There was no need for him to clarify what he meant by that statement. Ever since their 'detainment' from Hogwarts, each member of the group had been subjected to one unlawful interrogation after another. Many of the questions had been asked multiple times over, even with the use of Veritaserum and other imaginative methods of torture and mind-reading. If it weren't for the fact that they were still essentially just children in the eyes of the Wizarding World, Ron had little doubt that they'd have already had their minds torn apart so drastically that there'd have been very slim chance of a recovery made by any of them. All done to appease the conspiracy-paranoia of Minister Fudge and the propaganda his ministry had been cultivating all year long. Although, to their credit, _most_ of the interrogators involved in the grisly job had never done anything more than was strictly necessary to extract the information.

Sitting down a heavy sigh of resignation, Ron glanced around the room they were trapped in. As far as he could tell, they were still trapped in the same 'detention room' as they'd been shoved in since being taken. Of course, because of the catastrophic damage inflicted on the Ministry building and the need to use the different rooms of the Inn for substitute headquarters and departments, their prison cell was little more than an expanded and hurriedly cleaned out closet located in the first floor kitchen. Then again, given the fact that he and most of the others usually were dragged back into their prison cell because of the extensive mental trauma they'd been forced into, Ron was not entirely sure if they were still in the same room or moved somewhere else. All that he did know for certain was they weren't at Azkaban…yet. In their need to save the floundering government, the kids had been all but forgotten.

"When do you think they'll remember to bring us to Azkaban?" Neville asked in a voice barely above a whisper. But in the silence of the room, it was clearly heard by all.

"Once they've gotten most of the _necessary_ Departments back up and running again, I'd assume," Ginny answered from where she lay in her own little area of the room, gazing almost unseeingly up at the ceiling. "Assuming we haven't been forgotten entirely by then and left to rot here." In the bleakness of their situation and after repeated interrogations, none of the others could muster the motivation to scold Ginny for her hopeless outlook. "I wonder what happened to Harry."

"The Aurors and the Ministry haven't been able to find him because of that dragon escaping," Hermione said glancing over at the girl. "And then there's the fact that they have to reestablish their bases of operation, which could take a little while. Assuming Harry made it to safety, I don't think they'll find him for a good long time."

"Harry's still alive," Luna spoke up suddenly in a more muted version of her usually tone. "He's alive and preparing to strike back at the Del-Lichten nymphs who've spreading so much unhappiness everywhere lately. I do hope he remembers to bring his umbrella though."

In typical Luna fashion, her strange remarks brought reluctant smiles to her companions' faces and momentarily lifted their morale a few notches.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

It was with a weary sigh that Mike Strider sat down in the first available seat he could find, Firewhiskey in hand and ready. The diner portion of the Three Broomsticks was, for a change, somewhat deserted at this time. Ever since the Ministry's collapse, something that he still couldn't hardly believe happened, business for the humble Inn had taken an all-time high with poor Madam Rosmerta being run ragged with so many customers. If she hadn't hired several fresh Hogwarts graduates to help her run the establishment, Mike was willing to bet that she'd have collapsed out of exhaustion after only the third day of the Ministry's occupation.

Taking a long, slow drink of the fiery liquid, Mike leaned heavily back into the chair, relishing the burning feeling of the alcohol going down his throat. Feeling it settle down after a few seconds, he let a small smile grace his lips. It was nice to have these few moments of rest after a week of confusion and desperate scrambling to get anything even halfway workable again. His job, especially, was of extremely high importance to the Ministry and the Wizarding World in general. He was a member of the Department of Magical Transportation. And for the past week he and quite a few others had been laboring nonstop to find any remains of the Floo system and then to build on them to get all the important locations reconnected again.

Unlike what most may have thought of the Floo, the actual layout of the system was much like a spider web. It was all interconnected to one another, and centered on the Ministry to help them keep track of it. There were ways to bypass the network, of course, but it was expensive and dangerous. Only Dark Wizards or those who needed something very important to hide would use an independent network like that. However, never before had Mike ever been so relieved to find such a network. It was centered on an old rundown hut in Argyll that had clearly seen better days…several centuries ago. Regardless of the history behind it, Mike and his team had taken what they'd found and expanded it dramatically. What they now had was a new Floo network that, while still significantly smaller, was now connected to all the truly essential locations that remained in Magical Britain. Though it was most certainly an achievement to be proud of, given their resources, time constraints, and the desperation of their situation, Mike was not looking forward to tedious business of reconnecting all the homes and remaining businesses of Great Britain back into it.

Setting his Firewhiskey aside, Mike picked up a copy of _The Quibbler_ that was lying on the table nearby him. These days _The Quibbler_ actually wrote news that was worth reading, so Mike didn't give it any thought when he opened it and started reviewing the news of what had transpired earlier in the day while he had been locked in his new substitute Department office with his team. Desperate efforts were being made by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature to turn the swarm of Hebridean Blacks away from southern England and to contain the expanding flights of Welsh Greens as they spread farther west towards Argyll and Ireland and east towards Northumberland. And then there were the on-going recovery, reconstruction, and relocation efforts of various Ministry Departments, St. Mungo's, and Gringotts. All of which were steadily making progress in building and opening new offices in Hogsmeade to serve as their new headquarters until the Department Heads could properly coordinate the repair and reconstruction of the Ministry and the Alleys. Things were, more or less, the same abroad as they were at home, if he had to guess; excluding a few important destroyed buildings and a faltering government trying to keep itself together.

"That's pretty bleak news," he muttered to himself as he took another sip of his Firewhiskey.

To be honest with himself, he couldn't help but feel very impressed and rather suspicious of all that was happening in their country since the dragon attack a week ago. Assassinations of important and seemingly random people, spreading dragon swarms, limited means of magical transportation, emergency evacuation of St. Mungo's, and a new office for Gringotts in Hogsmeade? Not to mention a new, if mostly ignored at this point, Educational Decree that treated all children as adults. This feeling less like an emergency and temporary settlement for the Ministry to get itself back into working order and more like a revolution of some kind. And that's not even taking into account the confusion, accusations, and paranoia that were surrounding two of Magical Britain's most prominent icons, Dumbledore and Potter, who Minister Fudge and the former _Daily Prophet_ were laying all blame on.

There were so many plots and conspiracy theories that were being whispered throughout Great Britain, most of them centering on the Potter boy and Dumbledore trying to overthrow the Ministry for themselves. There were also a very few others that said that it was all You-Know-Who or his former followers' doing, that he was using the dragons to rebuild the Ministry into a government that would suit their needs and ideals. It gave Mike a headache just trying to think about it! Why couldn't everyone just get along? He was just a humble Muggleborn himself, trying to do his part and get by in the world. Was that too much to ask of a man such as him?

Glancing up from his magazine as movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, he watched as a ragged and weary employee came stumbling inside and headed towards the kitchen window to place an order. While Mike Strider could easily say that he was just an average wizard with modest ambitions and no outstanding talent, he somehow felt something change in the environment around him. It was an extremely subtle thing; like there was screaming happening down a hallway but it was too far away for him to hear, yet he knew it was there. The atmosphere in the diner seemed to…almost come alive with anticipation.

Following his gut feeling, Mike quietly gathered up his Firewhiskey and the magazine. Standing up silently, he moved towards the exit to leave. His feeling of unease driving him to leave and head home before something…_bad_ happened. Something that he knew he didn't want any part of.

From under the cloak of his Disillusionment Charm, Moody watched the departing wizard with a very suspicious eye, literally. He also swept his normal gaze over everything and everyone in the diner, watching as much as he possibly could. Through the use of subtle but powerful Glamour charm, he had taken on the appearance of Daryl Thomas, a lowly Auror graduate.

Satisfied that the wizard didn't seem to suspect anything, Moody's magical eye swept forward and surveyed the surroundings more thoroughly. The first floor of the Three Broomsticks was roughly divided into halves, the left half dedicated to the small diner and kitchen. The other half took up the Inn rooms, which the Ministry had claimed use of for the immediate future. He was able to spot the locked closet that contained the kids quite easily because it was situated right next to the stairwells and the hallway that led to the rooms, but the entrance was located in the kitchens. And there were two hidden Aurors who were stationed to guard the closet. Good, Kingsley and Tonks information was accurate.

Standing over by the hallway and stairwell entrances, he reached up to his left ear and lightly touched it. "All clear," he whispered. "Dung, Wolf, Red, proceed to stations. Eater, keep an eye out and stay sharp." A series of affirmatives quietly sounded in his ear in response.

Despite himself, Moody had to bow his head down in gratitude for the unique little creations that the Weasley Twins had just recently developed. They called them 'Communication Ears,' based on their earlier Extendable Ears and Muggle short-range radios. Granted, this rescue mission was their first field test, so Alastor was keeping himself as alert and ready as could be.

From his position, Moody kept his magical eye swerving between the stairwell behind him and the hallway beside him. Several of the converted hotel rooms were still quite packed with wizards and witches. Thankfully, at this hour, many of them were weary and preparing to head home. This meant that their guards were sufficiently lowered that they'd not be able to jump forward to lend a hand in any crisis that may occur. However on the off-chance that there were a few who might, it was his job to hold them off. But it was also his job to coordinate the others, which was why he was keeping his other eye trained on the six other wizards that were currently reclining in the diner.

Suddenly the entrance doors opened and a wizard stumbled in. He wore a ragged expression, clothes and face dirty and sweaty, and was trudging his towards the kitchen window to make an order of Firewhiskey. Due to his extremely sharp eye and experience, Moody was able to spot the three smudges that were silently following him inside the establishment. Good, the others were in.

He watched as Wolf took his position near the center of the diner, in front of the doors to help provide an exit for them if things went awry. Red moved over to a wall not far from where Moody was stationed and crouched down beside a pair of trash bins. Once they'd stopped moving, Red and Wolf became almost invisible even to his experienced eye. Perfect, they were in position. All that remained was the final member of their little group to reach his objective, and Moody had to restrain himself from using his magical eye to turn as watch Dung as he disappeared through the open doorway into the kitchens. Dung was the most important piece of their plan and if he decided to jump ship, it would fall to Red to take his place.

"_I'm in position_," Wolf suddenly whispered into his own communication ear.

"_I'm set_," Red whispered, anxiety thick in his voice.

"…_Ready_," Eater drawled, his displeasure quite apparent.

After several stressful moments of silence, Moody reached up to his ear piece and growled out, "Dung, we're waiting on you."

Several more moments of stressful silence crawled slowly passed. What was that man doing in there? Just as Moody was preparing to order Red to replace the man, Dung whispered out, "_Ready_."

"Eater, light up the sky," Moody commanded, shifting into high alert.

With a quick glance of his magical eye, Moody easily spotted Snape already casting the Dark Mark into the sky above Hogsmeade. Just before Moody turned his attention back to the hall and stairs, he saw Severus immediately turn his wand on any nearby wizards or witches and began casting silent _Confundus_ jinxes on them. Within a few moments, loud screams of panic and terror could be heard as natural fear of the Dark Mark and the Confounded wizards Snape hit began to sink in and cause a riot.

"Wolf, crash the party," Moody ordered.

Immediately, Lupin turned his wand upon the unsuspecting trio of wizards closest to him. Within a few seconds, two were Confounded and one was blown back through a window by a _Stupefy_. The two Confounded wizards, confused and believing they were suddenly under attack by their fellow Ministry employees, turned and suddenly attacked the other four visible people in the room. Within seconds, the two Aurors guarding the kids in the kitchen were drawn out by the noise of the fighting. Now, things had the potential to get even uglier if things didn't play out as planned.

With his enchanted eye, Moody spotted several heads turning towards the noise and the ruckus coming from outside. Their window of opportunity was closing fast. "Dung, hurry it up!"

"_Two minutes is all I need_," Dung replied.

Seeing several people racing out of their rooms, down the hall, and towards the stairs, Moody turned to face the approaching storm, "You've got ten seconds." Raising his wand, Moody cast a quick series of charms upon the doorway of the hall. Strengthening it, warding it with weak repellents, and even locking it with a powerful spell that no mere _Alohomora_ could've opened. Near him, Bill Weasley was already at work doing the same with the stairwell and Lupin was lending to the confusion of the fight in the diner.

"_Dung, are they out yet?_" Lupin demanded as he was barely able to dodge a rather vicious-looking curse.

"_Almost…nearly there_…" Dung said, his voice sounding stressed and distracted.

"_We've got a problem out here_," Snape drawled eerily. "_Aurors are showing up; a __**lot**__ of them_."

"Stick to the plan as long as possible," Moody advised. "If you're compromised, get out."

Just then, the door to the hallway exploded, showering Moody and Bill with splinters that they didn't have time to dodge. Seeing the flood of twenty wizards and witches pouring out of the bottleneck, Moody, Lupin, and Bill all immediately ceased their spell casting and discreetly moved towards the exit.

"Dung, you're on your own now," Moody barely had time to whisper before the Ministry employees ruthlessly attacked the Confounded wizards.

In the ensuing battle, the three Order members were easily able to slip out of the diner and out to the street where they were able to see just how widespread the panic truly was. Houses and buildings were all tightly closed and locked down, but there was a noticeable throng of battling witches and wizards moving steadily down High Street. The battle was as much a free for all as it was confusing. Much to Moody's personal amusement, he was able to identify at least six men he strongly suspected had been Death Eaters in the First War. And hanging ominously above all the chaos was the sickeningly familiar Dark Mark of Voldemort.

"_The kids are out_," Dung suddenly called out, though his voice was fuzzy and barely decipherable thanks to the significant distance between him and the others. "_I'll join them shortly_."

Without another word to one another, the other Order members discreetly vanished into the pandemonium of the fear-ridden village.

Elsewhere, Mike walked out as he shook his head in an effort to clear it. His eyes thought he saw something that should've _never had been seen again_ but he was certain his mind was playing tricks on his eyes. Curiosity got the better of him and he looked up anyway.

And immediately wished he hadn't...

"_You-Know-Who's back!_" panicked cries screamed through the village.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**July 2, 1996  
Tuesday, 4:44pm  
England, Dover**

**DARK MARK OVER HOGSMEADE!  
BUT WHO'S RESPONSIBLE?  
**_-Written by Rita Skeeter_ – The Quibbler

With only a half-amused snort, Fleur idly tossed the magazine onto the table she was passing without bothering to read the rest of the article. She didn't need to read the magazine to know what had happened last night, her dear Bill had told her all about it. And, even now, she couldn't help but chuckle sardonically at the Ministry's obvious confusion over the matter. Although many people in the village had strongly believed that the work had been done by none other than the Dark Lord or his minions at the time, once the Aurors had gotten things under control and interrogated the 'instigators', they'd quickly realized that something afoul was about. What was the Dark Lord's reaction to this though? As of yet, there was no word about Harry's friends' escape from Ministry confinement and that could mean any number of things.

Walking over to a window to peek carefully outside, Fleur's gaze quickly took in everything that could be seen with a careful, practiced gaze. She, with Hestia Jones, had been assigned to be the lookouts and protectors of the kids until they could be moved to a more permanent and safer place. With all of their wands still in the Ministry's imprisonment, they were nearly as defenseless and useless as a common Muggle. And, unless things changed quickly and the Ministry hadn't jumped to conclusions, there was also the high probability that their wands had already been snapped as part of their punishment before imprisonment.

The group of them was staying in a rented Muggle motel that hugged the coast of the English Channel. Fleur was in charge of monitoring the inside of the motel room while Hestia patrolled outside using one of Moody's and loaned Invisibility Cloaks. Along with a few special enchantments that Bill had taught her over the past year, this was probably the most protected Muggle building this side of London. But even with all the hard-won confidence in her own abilities and her superb instructor, the quarter-Veela still couldn't help but feel very apprehensive about what she was doing and what was going on. Things were getting even more questionable in the English Ministry by the day, and it was really starting to make Fleur wish that she could move back to her home in France.

In fact, she was unable to keep her blatant envy from showing on her face every time she spotted her charges. Though it had been her own idea to send them to France, under the care of her parents, it didn't ease her mind to know that. With the way things were, it would be unlikely that Fleur would be able to see her family again anytime soon and that the kids would likely not be able to return home for however long it took for them to be cleared of the ridiculous criminal charges that Fudge had labeled them with.

"Fleur," a familiar voice asked behind her, drawing her attention away from the window. "Where and when are we going to leave?"

It was Ginevra Weasley, Bill's sister. Despite the heavy bags under her sleep-deprived eyes, the expression the red-haired girl wore of was sharp awareness. Even though she and the others had slept in and taken some long and much-needed showers after they'd been freed, she didn't look much better off due to her exhaustion. Only time would help them heal from their experiences at this point.

"It's too dangerous for you and your friends to stay in England anymore," Fleur said, facing the younger girl fully. "So, in a couple minutes, you're going to be transported to somewhere safe, beyond the Ministry's control."

"Where are we going?" Ginny repeated, sounding and looking quite distressed.

"My parents' house," she answered. Holding up her hand to stave off the question she could already see forming in the girl's mind, she said, "As long as you're in France, the English Ministry cannot touch you until you set foot back in their jurisdiction. And with all their other problems, they probably won't care too much what happens to you until after they've settled everything down."

"What about Harry?" Ginny asked immediately, her worry apparent in her voice. "Will he be joining us later or is he already there?"

"Harry's safe," Fleur said dismissively, though inwardly she cringed at her own tone. Not even she liked what she was saying or going to say, despite knowing some of the importance behind the matter. "Professor Dumbledore claims that he's quite protected and will be ready to help when it's necessary."

For a moment, Ginny just stared at Fleur with a gaze that might've made lesser people cringe. But not Fleur, she'd seen worse from her own mother and grandmother on numerous occasions. A small girl like Ginevra wasn't going to intimidate her that easily!

"My father has also decided to enroll you in Beauxbatons if things don't work themselves out by September, even purchase you new wands," she stated, easily detracting the girl's attention.

"How will we be able to—" Ginny began.

"I'm pretty sure my father would be willing to allow you repay him after you've graduated and gotten a job," Fleur interrupted, a gentle smile on her face. "And, if what I've heard about you is correct, you'd make an exceptional Dragon Slayer with all that power you've got."

"Me, a Dragon Slayer?" Ginny asked, puzzled at the statement for a moment until suddenly her eyes widened with comprehension. "You mean that stuff that they kept trying to accuse us of was actually true? That the dragons have escaped and are attacking people?"

Fleur nodded grimly. "It's only been a week so far, but my mother's told me that the dragons have already destroyed six Muggle towns and cities and three Enclaves in France alone. There's probably a lot more elsewhere." In an attempt to breathe new humor into the grim conversation, she said, "So I'd say that dragon-fighting witches and wizards are going to be in very high demand for the next ten to twenty years. You'll certainly have plenty of work to do."

Ginny just stared solemnly at the quarter-Veela before turning and walking back into the bedroom to talk with the other two girls. Despite the somewhat frigid aura that the two of them had shared since Fleur had begun dating Bill, she couldn't help but miss those times. Back then at least the Weasley girl had a more lively attitude and was much more fun to interact with due to her witty comments.

Glancing over at the clock, Fleur couldn't help but wince as she spotted the time. It was almost five o'clock. Thus it was almost time to send these kids off to her parents. Despite her best effort, that small resentment of not being able to go with them returned again as Fleur moved to gather the boys out of their own bedroom. Once they were gathered and gripping the large metal ring, she'd send them off. She had purchased the Portkey the previous night while the rescue mission was being conducted. And thanks to the _fully-legal_ purchase of the magical artifact in France to used to return to France, it would be a dead-end charge for the English Ministry to use against the kids if they were ever discovered.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Well, that's it. Harry's friends are now safely out of the Ministry's hands and their jurisdiction, for the time being. Panic over the sudden appearance of the Dark Mark in the skies of Hogsmeade as the entirety of the English Wizarding World in a state of confusion and unease. And the Order is desperately trying to anticipate and counter Voldemort's moves before they happen, without too much success at this point. But what's Dumbledore got to speak to Slughorn about, I wonder? *wink-wink* And what's this? There was unknown visitor in the Weasley household? I wonder who that was and what he'd wanted.

I have to admit that even I can't help but chuckle at the 'Dumbledore moment' I created at the end of the Order meeting. And it was of a pure chance that it came out as well as it has. Let's hope that the next chapter turns as good, if not better. Because it's going to be the next chapter that really starts getting the story rolling in the direction I'm hoping to take it.


	4. End of an Era

**The Outlaw  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 4—End of an Era_

**July 4, 1996  
Thursday, 7:30pm  
Hogsmeade Village, Shrieking Shack**

Looking around the newly-renovated and converted dining room of the reportedly most haunted building in Magical Britain, Voldemort had to admit that he approved. Though the exterior of the Shack had mostly been left untouched for security reasons, the interior had been completely refurbished and repaired. It now appeared to be more of the inside of a majestic Pureblood estate, complete with Slytherin banners and colors proudly displayed in each room and hallway. It seemed much more fitting to call this the new secret headquarters of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and much better than living in the Malfoy Manor's basement. Its close proximity to the new Ministry of Magic was just an added bonus. Voldemort loved the idea of running his forces just under the Ministry's nose like that.

Walking over to the head of the table, he lovingly ran his hand over the top of the throne-like chair that was reserved for his use alone. Looking down the length of the dining room now converted into a conference room, he let loose a sneer at the thought of the great many meetings that were destined to take place inside this very room. It would be here that the _real_ Ministry of Magic would make its decisions regarding the future of the entire world.

Taking a seat in the chair, Voldemort patiently waited as his inner circle filtered into the room. The first meeting of the Dark Council was about to take place.

"My lord," the twelve men intoned reverently as they stood behind their much smaller seats.

"Be seated," he ordered after a moment. Once they quickly complied, he said, "How is our new Ministry reorganizing?"

"We currently have as many ward masters, cursebreakers, and construction crews as we can spare working on the new Ministry, my Lord," Antonin Dolohov answered immediately. "We have had Fudge make them focus a majority of their construction upon your plans. We have also weeded out the majority of our opposition in the Wizengamot; all that remains is Headmaster Dumbledore, sir."

Despite scowling in anger at Dumbledore's continued evasion of his men, Voldemort decided to let it go. Dumbledore was simply an opponent that was too far out of his underlings' league to deal with.

"What of Potter?" he demanded.

"Fudge has been become absolutely zealous in finding Potter, my Lord," Lucius said. "I do not know if it's the effects of the Imperius on him or not, but he has taken to finding the boy, dare I say, even more passionately than you, my Lord."

Though quirking his eyebrow at that statement, Voldemort said nothing in return. Perhaps he needn't have ordered Lucius to curse him after all? Focusing again upon the meeting, he said, "Where are the Aurors during this search? Why haven't they been trying to find the boy?"

There was a noticeable shifting among various members of the council, notably those in significant charge of the new changes taking place. "My Lord, while we do have every available wizard searching for the boy, there are simply too few of us available," Lucius answered with a carefully respectful tone.

Eyes narrowing dangerously, Voldemort barked out, "Explain."

Taking a quick breath, the Malfoy patriarch hurriedly said, "There have been a great many things that _need_ to done, my Lord. The Aurors are being run thin trying to contain the werewolves in Wales, important Diagon Alley shops need to be built and restocked, Ministry employees are busy trying to get their departments back up and running, many other wizards are being conscripted to protect cargo convoys from the Alleys to Hogsmeade from looters and Dark Creatures, the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is taking nearly everyone else to delay the dragons' arrival into London so the Goblins can finish their evacuation and relocation. Nobody has the time to spare to really look for the boy, my Lord."

He did have a point, several of them, Voldemort had to admit. But that still didn't mean that he approved. As he pondered this, Voldemort's eyes trailed over the gathered faces of his inner circle. With his Legilimency, he was easily able read the surface thoughts of those in front of him as they glanced his way. Many of them were indeed weary from a long, hard day of work and were eagerly looking forward to a chance to relax after the meeting. However, it was as he was reading their thoughts that he had a sudden idea.

"Lucius," he said silkily. "Tomorrow, you will have Fudge send a request for reconstruction assistance and aid for civil unrest to the International Confederation of Wizards. You will personally visit each country to select the guest list. I want more ward masters and construction crews to aid in the Ministry's efforts, specialized Magical Creatures executioners, and purchase a significant amount of detection amulets. However, I also want you recruiting new Death Eater candidates as well. We will bolster our numbers much more quickly this way."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Malfoy quietly asked, "My Lord, are the amulets to aid in temporarily replacing the Ministry's Trace range?"

"Correct," Voldemort answered. The detection amulets were relics of ages past when ancient wizards sought new apprentices and underlings. With the creation of the Trace charm, the amulets had largely fallen into disuse and as such there were precious few left anymore. Mirroring this descent, the knowledge of crafting them was almost extinct as well. "I know Potter is getting restless at this point. He'll soon discover that the Ministry's Trace has been destroyed and will start acting more impulsively with his magic. We will find him when he does."

"My Lord," Severus Snape spoke up respectfully. "I have some new information about Dumbledore's activities."

Focusing his attention upon the Potions Master, Voldemort 's Legilimency prodded into the man's conscious with a deceptively feather-light touch that none but the most achieved of Occlumency masters could've felt. He was always cautious around the younger Half-blood, constantly poking and prodding his allegiance. But the man's information proved reliable, time and again.

Though Voldemort didn't answer, Severus took his silent gaze as permission to speak. "Dumbledore and his men are suspicious of Fudge. They believe that he's responding too smoothly to these crises to be doing so under his own power. I suspect they think he's either allied himself to you or is under the Imperius."

"So what!" Yaxley barked from further down the table. "Let them think what they want. Do you have anything that's actually _worth_ reporting, Mudblood?"

There were several disquiet murmurs of agreement among the various council members, but Severus wasn't the least bit phased by it. "The Headmaster has already gotten Potter's friends out of the country and is getting involved in some kind of secret project." _That_ shut the various mocking voices as numerous heads turned towards Lucius Malfoy. "They were the ones who instigated the panic in Hogsmeade the other day."

To say Voldemort was disappointed would've been an understatement. He had been planning on using the images of Potter's starving, injured, tortured, and imprisoned friends to mentally attack the Potter boy. After the fiasco with the Department of Mysteries, the boy would've likely ignored Voldemort's illusions and not rushed to their rescue. Then, when he finally realized the illusions had been real, he would've been even more tormented than he had been after his godfather's death. It was a truly delicious and insidious plot that would've brought Voldemort a great deal of enjoyment. Sadly, it seemed he couldn't even use it as he'd originally intended to anymore!

"I would've informed you of this right away, my Lord," Severus spoke up, heading off the storm quickly. "But Dumbledore has been keeping a tighter rein of his men than he usually does." Glancing up and quickly spotting the still-unsatisfied Dark Lord's expression, he said, "However, I do have some information on what Dumbledore has planned later tonight."

Gazing critically at his inside agent, Voldemort seriously considered whether or not to hear the information before or after he'd suitably punished the Potions Master. Yet from a few of the phrases he could detect from the man's mind about Dumbledore's plans, he decided to save the punishment for later. "What does the Headmaster hope to accomplish?"

"Dumbledore wasn't very specific as to what he intended to do," Severus answered neutrally. "But he did say that he was hoping to _retrieve_ something from Gringotts tonight while the Goblins were busy opening their new office."

"Dumbledore wants to _steal_ from Gringotts?" Dolohov laughed, as did a majority of those at the table.

"Yes," Severus answered seriously. "And he's bringing a fair number of his precious Order with him. This would be a perfect opportunity to thin their ranks further."

Perhaps Severus had just earned himself a reprieve from his punishment. "Tell me more," Voldemort commanded.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**10:07pm  
London, Diagon Alley**

Diagon Alley, a name normally associated with a large street full of wizardingfolk, lively businesses with bright and amorous shops and displays that catered to the whims and needs of Magical Britain. A magical place that was unlike any other in the country and, in the English wizards' humble opinion, was the second most important location in the entire Wizarding Community. None of the many other magical alleys even came close to the splendor of Diagon Alley, as far as most English wizards were concerned.

So, the sight of it being little more than a charred ruin and all but abandoned was an extremely unsettling and saddening sight Bill Weasley. Many of the former shops and buildings of the Alley were nothing more than collapsed rubble, broken and burnt wooden beams, wind-swept ash coated the street and buildings in varying layers of dust, and there were scattered pieces of wood and glass debris littering the cobblestones of the street. The ruins cast odd shadows and shapes in the moonlight. For some reason that he just couldn't explain, even to himself, the dragon-burnt ruins of the once proud magical alley carried a certain significant symbolism.

It felt like…the end of an era somehow.

Shaking his mind back to present, Bill focused back upon his task at hand. Officially, he was standing outside of Gringotts at this late hour to aid in the final closure of the Goblin bank's front entrance and Fleur was there to 'keep him company.' After tonight, the bank would be completely inaccessible from this entrance by anything. Goblin magic, mixed with powerful wards and other defensive booty-traps that the Goblins had installed, made this entrance as impenetrable as the legendary Chamber of Secrets.

Unofficially, he, Fleur, Hestia Jones, and Dedalus Diggle were to stand guard outside while the disguised Dumbledore did whatever he needed to do inside Gringotts. Though no one would know it, Dumbledore would likely be the last person to use this entrance of Gringotts until the mess of the Ministry and the dragon swarm was dealt with.

Glancing over at his beautiful girlfriend from their position at the corner of the white stone steps that led inside to bank. He was making a noticeable effort of erecting and finalizing the last of an intricate series of wards, along with a trio of his fellow ward masters. Fleur stood a short ways away. Though she was keeping a fair amount of her attention focused on Bill and his work, she was also casting surreptitious glances down the burned alley and around her. Despite knowing of their presence, the blonde Veela couldn't spot the hiding forms of her two Order colleagues on the opposite side of the bank's entrance.

It was thanks to her surveillance that Fleur was able to notice something very suspicious as Bill and the others were just finishing their work. She watched as several men in black robes with their hoods up appeared partway down the alley. That alone was very suspicious since no one else should've been here at this time unless it was a Ministry official. Then they turned and promptly rushed towards Gringotts.

Fleur froze for a moment when she recognized the robes and skull masks, Death Eaters. There were at least a dozen of the Dark wizards and they quickly launched attacks at Fleur and the cursebreakers before her. Snapping back to reality, Fleur pushed Bill aside and shouted, "DEATH EATERS!"

Three of the Dark wizards turned and fired spells towards the pair. Red, green and purple lights lit the dark Alley. Regaining his balance and turning his wand to his enemies, Bill shoved Fleur out of the way as the green spell approached. Fleur landed in a clump between two buildings, hitting her head on the corner of the building. Fleur knew nothing else until she woke in the Burrow an hour later.

Bill saw her fall to the ground after he shoved her. He knew she was hurt, but he had no time to help her. Two of the Dark wizards were coming after them while three more focused on the ward masters near him, dropping them like flies with Stunners. The rest of the Death Eaters attempted to rush into Gringotts but were cut off by spellfire from the two hiding Order members on the opposite side. Bill swept his wand forward and stepped ahead and to the side of where Fleur lay. He didn't stand directly in front of her out of concern that spells fired at him might hit her if he dodged them.

Bill took the stance his teacher drilled into him and yelled "_Reducto_!" at the closest Dark wizard. Bill heard his opponent curse loudly in annoyance and anger as his wand formed a shield in front of him. However, Bill's spell was not fired at the wizard, at least not directly. The spell struck the cobblestones three feet in front of the front wizard. The stones exploded with the spell's impact, throwing stones like shrapnel into the legs of the approaching wizard.

The wizard dropped with a scream as his legs gave out from the stone shrapnel damage. Without waiting to allow his opponent a chance to recover, Bill followed it up with a Stunner. The Stunner took the wizard by surprise and he went unconscious.

The second wizard slowed as he approached his downed collogue, the scowl on the man's masked face was quite noticeable to Bill thanks to the man's body language. The Death Eater glanced down momentarily, but looked up too fast for Bill to take advantage of it. Then in a lightly French-accented voice, the Death Eater said, "That was somewhat impressive. You've got some talent, young man. I salute you." Without looking down, the wizard summoned the other Dark wizard's wand and placed it inside his robe.

Bill knew this one would not underestimate him like the other one did. He had to play for time. For the first time, Bill actually regretted that the Ministry was falling to pieces so completely; they'd have had Aurors here by now in any other situation! "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Aleron Delahaye," the Dark wizard answered easily. "Now, boy, I am not going to stand here and play with you. I am sorry, but I can't have you reporting us to Dumbledore," the wizard said in an oddly respectful tone as he raised his wand.

Bill dropped into a roll to his side away from his unconscious girlfriend. He never saw the spell fired but he heard it crack against something in the distance. Coming out of the roll, Bill started firing off Stunners, Bone-breaking Curses and Reductos as fast as he could.

The Death Eater was forced completely onto the defensive. Bill's rapid cursing prevented him from dropping his shield to curse the redhead back. However, he was willing to be a little patient. Bill soon understood why. Having spent a majority of his time working on the Gringotts' wards for the better part of two hours had drained a significant portion of his magical core. He no longer had the reserve power to go toe-to-toe with a fresh wizard in an endurance match, and the Death Eater knew it. Bill could actually feel himself weaken with each spell.

Suddenly, the wizard stepped to the side and fired a spell at Bill. The fireball came straight at him. The eldest Weasley son stepped to the side to allow it to pass. He failed to notice the spell following in its wake and was hurled back as the spell slammed into him, his wand flying from his hand as he was hit. A terrible agony flared up inside his chest, it felt like he'd just broken four ribs and it was getting difficult to breathe.

Bill lay helplessly on the ground, gasping for breath as his lungs quickly filled with blood. So he offered little to no resistance when a hand suddenly reached down and grabbed Bill by the front of his robes. He found himself being picked up and held face to face with his masked attacker. The wizard set Bill on his feet almost gently before he took several steps back. "You have been a good opponent, boy. You deserve to die on your feet."

Raising his wand in preparation, the wizard asked, "Is there anything you'd like to say before you die?"

From his position standing, Bill could see that Dedalus and Hestia were also being overwhelmed in their own fights, outnumbered three to one. He wasn't able to see any more as he suddenly doubled over slightly, weakly grasping his chest in a vain attempt to stop the pain. Raising his face again, Bill saw that the Dark wizard before him had been patiently waiting for his response.

"I wasn't…ready today," he said quietly, fighting against the pain and to get air into his lungs so he could get his words out properly. "…I had really wanted…to live with her…for the rest of my…life."

Though the skulled mask didn't respond, there was a noticeable glance to the side as the man looked at the unconscious Veela. "Life is cruel to those who are kind and gentle-hearted, boy," the man sounded…_almost_ apologetic. "That is why we must be crueler to get what we want before it's gone."

"One day…" Bill said as he felt his strength perceptibly leaving him as his legs began to weaken. "It will be…a kind-hearted boy…who will stop all this."

"Perhaps," the man admitted neutrally. "But not today. _Avada Kedavra!_"

In a flash of green, he was gone.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**July 6, 1996  
Saturday, 9:00am  
London, 12 Grimmauld Place**

The past week since his banishment to his godfather's house, which it was as far as he was concerned, Harry's life had fallen into a slight routine. In the early mornings, he'd wake up and go about his business of breakfast, relieving himself, and just waking himself up in general. Then he'd returning to his room of choice and sulk over Sirius' death, although these times were growing shorter with each passing day and due to his newfound 'research project'. It had been with the arrival of his beloved familiar, Hedwig, Harry's mood had taken a definite spike upwards.

After a small lunch, he'd set about beginning his research project. Despite himself Harry couldn't help but think that Hermione probably would've been torn between what he was doing. On the one hand, he was finally starting to take an active interest in his studies. On the other hand, he was desecrating several holy artifacts that probably would've had Hermione gunning for his life if there was a law against it. And each time that thought entered his mind; Harry couldn't suppress the small grin on his face, no matter how hard he tried to.

In the afternoons and usually well into the evenings, he'd bring out his Potions books, along with several other reference books and supplementary reading he found in the Black Library. The Half-Blood Prince's _Advanced Potions_ book was full of notations on what to do instead of or in addition to the text's instructions. Harry knew he wasn't that good with Potions…well, maybe not by Snape's standards and mightn't ever be. But the idea of using scribbles in the margins as a way of preparing ahead seemed like a good one. So he dug out his First Year potions book and started at the beginning of the class text, with the potions he was already long familiar with, like the boil-curing potion that he vaguely remembered that had backfired on Neville. He wrote down all the significant things he could find on the ingredients and the process of using them in certain/specific kinds of brews that he found in the other texts.

It was slow going, but it kept him very busy and he found himself having a surprising amount of fun doing it. Even after a few days, Harry could already see that it would make a big difference. If he had done this years ago for each potion before they had to make it, he'd already have known which stages were the touchiest, requiring exact timing and number of stirs, and which ingredients and mixtures were a little more forgiving. It would've helped him to know when he had to really pay attention—and when the Slytherins had been likeliest to interfere. Harry didn't doubt for a second that Malfoy already knew half of it, else how did he always know when to throw something into Gryffindor cauldrons at the exact moment that could make things go hideously wrong? And the more he researched, the more he learned about each potion after he finished notating a new potion.

It was with one of the supplementary texts he'd stumbled across in the Black Library that covered, in depth, the magical effects different kinds of preparation could have on ingredients. It had never made sense to him why crushing versus slicing or finely chopped versus diced with different kinds of knives or pestles or whatever could have such different results—it never made that much difference when he was cooking at the Dursleys. He'd learned to do the _how_, but never really cared about the _why_. Making potions really wasn't as much like cooking as he'd always thought, though. There was so much subtle magic involved in the process, even without wands. It was no wonder he'd always struggled with it.

'_It's because I am Muggle-raised_,' he reminded himself. He'd done his best, he'd just never known which things were the most important to pay attention to amid the chaos going on around him, and Dumbledore's now-apparent hands-off way of preparing him for his fate hadn't helped him at all. It was the wizard-raised who cared about such things, anyway.

'_Well, not counting for Ron at least_,' Harry thought, smiling fondly to him as he ate breakfast that morning.

Looking at the pantry where a good portion of the food had been kept, Harry sighed in resignation. When Dumbledore had explained to Harry the importance of the prophecy and his destiny, they had inadvertently discovered through Kreacher that Harry was now the owner of Grimmauld Place, as it was discovered in Sirius' will that the house-elf had hatefully supplied them with. Of course, Harry had instantly ordered the treacherous house-elf to head to Hogwarts and work with the other house-elves there since he didn't desire the creature's companionship. And now, without Kreacher around anymore to do the chores, namely go grocery shopping, Harry was finding himself with a slight dilemma.

He needed food, but he couldn't go outside without the risk of running into a wizard who'd gladly turn him into the Ministry for a Knut. He had Hedwig so he could send messages to others, but Dumbledore had strongly urged against that. Hedwig wasn't exactly a subtle owl, given her unique coloring. So the Ministry, or Voldemort for that matter, could follow her back towards the area of Grimmauld Place. Plus, even if he could use her, Harry wouldn't have since he didn't want to bother the Order. From the few Wizarding newspapers and magazines that hadn't been destroyed with Diagon Alley and were now acting as the substitute Daily Prophet, he knew they were very busy and disoriented by the dragon crisis, strange disappearances, and other issues. He didn't want to add his problems to their own, however minor they might've been in comparison. Also, he really didn't want to part with her since she had been the only company he'd had since Dumbledore had left.

But despite his resolve to not interfere, Harry was fast finding himself growing increasingly lonely. Being shut up in a dark house with only an owl and rereading old school books tends to wear on a person pretty quickly.

Looking back over to where his school trunk lie in the corner of the kitchen, Harry gazed longingly at his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak. The more he stared at the two items, the more he desired to use them, and the more difficult it became to convince him not to, especially with his food supply quickly dwindling away.

'_I __**need**__ food_,' he kept telling himself. '_But I __**can't**__ leave; Death Eaters or the Ministry might find me… But if they can't __**see**__ me, it won't be a problem. Unless they have a means of __**detecting**__ magical objects, then I'll be in trouble_.'

Finally, with a sigh and a visible gathering of his famed Gryffindor courage, Harry stood. Depositing his dishes into the sink, he moved over to the trunk and grabbed his cloak. He needed food, and soon. But he couldn't be gone for too long since he might attract unwanted attention. His cloak would help with sneaking around, but maybe an extra change of clothes as a disguise might help as well. And a wide-brimmed hat to hide his thrice-damned scar.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**9:32am  
London, Shoreditch**

From under the shade of a small tree, a man watched the street in front of him with a careful gaze. He had a warm ebony skin coloring, wore a simple brown leather jacket, and well-used faded jeans. The man's face was obscured by the brown helmet he wore as he leaned casually against his black motorcycle. Given the fact that London had become literally a ghost town once it had been released to the public that a very large swarm of dragons were heading towards the city very quickly, the street the man was watching so intently was completely silent and void of any signs of life.

With many of the structures destroyed by the magical explosion during the original dragon attack, the eerie echoes of the wind blowing through the streets and sweeping discarded newspapers, wrappers, junk, and leaves, the once-thriving metropolis of Great Britain gave off the same type of image of an abandoned city left in ruins by the ancient people who once lived there. It would've been a very unsettling experience to those who were unaware of the situation.

And the lone boy that turned around the corner at the far end of the street was very much one of those people. He kept looking around the widespread destruction with a variety of expressions playing across his face, clearly expecting or hoping to run into someone. He was dressed in oversized rags; a heavily worn down and somewhat dirty tan shirt was draped over his lean frame, a pair of extremely baggy jeans that had needed to be rolled up several times around his ankles, a pair of filthy sneakers that were clearly on their last legs and seemed to be held together by magic, and a simple backpack hanging over his shoulders.

Still hidden under the protection of the tree's shade, the man watched as the boy slowly made his way down the street and towards the food store that was located on the corner. It wasn't until the boy finally reached the store that the man understood what was going on. The boy was either out of food or was pretty damn close to it, being cut off from the rest of the world tended to cause these little problems quite often after all. He watched in amusement as the boy tried to open the locked down to the store and found he couldn't, which put him in an immediate moral crisis.

But the man made no move to help the boy as he fought amongst his morals and his needs to make a decision. Whatever the boy chose here would give him a better idea of what the boy's state of mind was like at this point. Would he leave and try a different store? Would he break his promise to Dumbledore and use magic? Or would he break into the store Muggle-style and take what he needed? He watched with keen interest as the boy seemed to come to a decision.

Looking around at the outside of the store, he seemed to be searching for the security cameras. Seeing that they were all turned off, as evidenced by the lack of recording red lights, he turned and looked about on the ground around him. Finding a piece of a broken street sign, he grabbed it and stalked back to the door. For a long moment, he hesitated as he lifted the broken sign up in preparation for the strike. Then, after visibly steeling his resolve, he lashed out and struck the door. After several strikes, he finally broke the glass and crept inside.

Nodding to himself, the man stood up from his position and walked across the street to lean against the wall by the broken door of the food store. He waited with a strained patience for the young man inside to gather everything he needed. Though it wasn't really necessary for them just yet, he had learned early on that a little extra food could never be enough. Let the boy take as much as he wanted, the dragons weren't due to arrive for another five hours at most.

After fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes of waiting, the man was drawn out of his thoughts by the crunching of glass shards under Harry's worn shoes as he awkwardly slid out of the store with his bagful of goods. In a loud voice, he asked, "Where have you been, Harry Potter?"

Alarmed and spinning to face him at speeds that honestly surprised the man, Harry was immediately on guard as he crouched down slightly, one hand drifting to where he'd hidden his wand. The black man in front of him had a very stocky, muscular build. The motorcycle helmet, leather jacket, and dark jeans he wore gave Harry the automatic mental image of an American street hustler he'd seen in several television shows and movies while at the Dursleys. Though his hands were crossed over his chest and clearly held no weapons, Harry felt himself growing even wearier as he stared at the man.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "How do you know my name?"

"Harry," the man said chidingly. "There isn't a single person in the entire Magical World who doesn't know your name or face." This statement caused Harry to flinch out of principle. "I am Darius Stone formerly from the United States."

"And what do you want?" Harry asked, inching himself ever-so-slightly away from the man.

"What I want…is your help, Mr. Potter," Darius said as he reached up and took off his helmet so Harry could see his face. "But we don't have time to talk about that just yet. I need to get you out of here – right now. There's a horde of Hebridean Blacks heading this way. They'll be here in a few hours and they'll burn what's left of London to the ground."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, highly suspicious and confused for different reasons. He wasn't sure what to believe, but he did believe the part about the dragons at least. That explained why London was so deserted after all. "Why haven't I heard of this until now?"

"You mean no one's been checking up on you since Dumbledore put you into hiding?" Though he phrased and spoke it like an innocent question of confusion, Harry noticed that there was a certain expression in his face that spoke of a hidden agenda. He _knew_ that no one had come to check up on Harry, maybe even was the cause of it somehow…

Pushing his suspicions to the side for the moment, Harry said, "I assume since you're here, waiting for me, you wanted to take me somewhere. Where, exactly? And does Professor Dumbledore know?"

"Dumbledore currently has his hands full trying to deal with the Ministry and Voldemort." The blatant use of the Dark Lord's name caused Harry to merely quirk an eyebrow in mild surprise. Aside from the man's obvious accent that was typical of Americans, this convinced Harry that Darius was at least not a resident of England, or Europe in general. "And like I said, I'll explain everything to you later. I need to you return to wherever you were hiding, get whatever you think is important to you, and meet back here in a half hour. Don't waste any time!"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Harry demanded as Darius turned to walk back towards his motorcycle.

Pausing, the black biker just glanced back at the teenager as he said, "You don't. But sometimes, to move forward, you have to have the courage to take a leap into the unknown." Without another word, he slid his helmet back on and mounted his motorcycle, starting it up and riding away at high speed.

Hurrying back to the now-questionable safety of Grimmauld Place with his mind spinning with many questions, Harry growled audibly as he tried to decide what to do. Was that man telling the truth about the dragons and Dumbledore? How had he managed to track Harry when not even the Aurors had clearly been able to? Should he trust this stranger with his life? What would Dumbledore want him to do?

As he was running, Harry's gaze drifted to the ground and something caught his attention. Skidding to a stop, Harry grabbed a newspaper that was wedged against a street lamp. As he heaved and attempted to get control of his breathing, he read what it was that had attracted his attention to the page in question. The headlines of the Muggle paper told him everything he needed to know.

**Dragon Swarm Approaches London!  
Thousands Flee the Cities!**

As he slowly got his breath back under control, a startling question rose up in his mind. What if that man was being truthful?

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**10:07am**

Dragging his loaded trunk had never been one of Harry's favorite activities. Dragging his loaded trunk out of Grimmauld Place, across six streets towards the food store where he'd met Mr. Darius Stone, all the while hidden under the not-so-large-anymore Invisibility Cloak had quickly become an activity that Harry loathed almost as much as spending detention with Snape at Hogwarts. Who knew lugging around some much stuff could be so exhausting? Or was he just that much out of shape?

Upon reaching the corner of the final street, Harry stopped and peeked around the corner. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it hadn't been seeing a large gray and white motorhome vehicle (commonly called RVs by the Americans). Leaning against the open door was the black man who was watching the street where Harry had disappeared down earlier, with an occasional glance at his watch. The man had shed his leather jacket and was wearing a simple sleeveless white t-shirt. With the absence of the jacket, Harry could now see a pair of sidearm holsters that he recognized as what were typically worn by police officers with a pair of pistols visible under his armpits.

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but stare at the strange man. The man didn't seem like any wizard he'd ever seen before. He knew of Harry's identity as well as the Magical World, so he'd clearly had some kind of contact with it. Whether he was wizard, squib, or even just a simple Muggle remained to be seen. No wizard he'd ever come into contact had ever used a gun, much even knew how to hold one properly. And they certain didn't seem to care about cars, let alone motorhomes. Just how different were the American and European Wizarding Worlds?

Keeping his Firebolt handy as he removed his cloak, Harry rounded the corner and stepped out into view. Approaching the motorhome cautiously, Harry carefully watched the man as he turned to him and moved to help him, his hands never moving towards the guns.

"You're late," Darius said, disappointment somewhat noticeable in his voice. "Looks like I'm going to have to work on your punctuality as well."

Quirking an eyebrow, Harry said, "What is that supposed to mean? I'm only a few minutes late and it's not like I was taking my time getting here either!"

"A few minutes can mean the difference between life and death in this world, boy," Darius pointed out as he reached him. With one hand, he grabbed the trunk's front handle and threw it over his shoulder with all the ease of swinging a pillow around. Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but gawk at the obvious arm strength the man clearly possessed. Gesturing towards the motorhome, Darius said, "Get in, we're in a hurry as it is."

Nodding slightly, Harry stepped into the motorhome, keeping a firm grip on his Firebolt and his other hand drifting towards his pocketed wand. What he found inside wasn't necessarily what he'd expected. The interior of the motorhome, though largely unchanged from what he'd expected from such a vehicle, had obviously been magically expanded. It didn't have the typical cramped feeling that other Muggle motorhomes had. Instead, it was a respectably spacious interior with more than enough room to house several people comfortably.

Walking further in, Harry's wandering gaze quickly spotted the essentials of the room he'd entered into. It was clearly the living room of the motorhome. It was sectioned off into thirds. The central portion was lined with a pair of seat belted couches, one facing forward towards the front of the motorhome while the second was positioned against the wall. Nestled between the two was a knee-high wooden table that was clearly bolted to the floor. Against the wall next to where Harry had entered was a pair of chairs that looked as though they may have able to rotate to face forward towards the front. The front of the vehicle was clearly and obviously the driver's seat with a passenger seat and a small cooler wedged in between them. The left section was obviously the kitchen and dining area. It had the typical sink, refrigerator, a stove, microwave, various cabinets and cooking utensils littering the countertop. And there was also a long table with bolted down stools and chairs lining the opposite side of the cooking area, large enough to comfortably feed twenty or more people. Because he was looking in that direction, Harry could see an open doorway that had what was clearly a long hallway that led further back into the motorhome and out of sight.

A loud thumping sound quickly drew Harry's attention as Darius entered the motorhome and set the trunk down on the floor. Turning to face the man, Harry waited for him to speak. Gesturing towards the hallway that Harry had spotted as he closed and locked the door, Darius said, "There're several spare bedrooms down that way. Find one and make yourself comfortable. When you're ready, come on back here so we can talk. I'll be driving us out of here." Without another word, Darius turned and headed towards the driver's seat, quickly starting up the motor.

Seeing nothing else better to do as the black man made good on his statement, Harry grabbed his trunk and started dragging it through the motorhome, pausing only to set his backpack of groceries down on the kitchen countertop. Entering the hallway, Harry immediately noticed the next room. It had large windows lining the hallway, inside were numerous cabinets and several small beds and chairs. If he had to guess, Harry would've put good money on this room being the infirmary. It had the same clean, cold, and sterile feel that usually accompanied such places.

Moving further, Harry opened the next door and had to blink in surprise. What he saw was a staircase that clearly led up towards a second level. If nothing else, this feature clinched it in Harry's mind that this was a magical motorhome. From the outside, he'd have _never_ guessed that this was a multi-leveled motorhome! Shaking himself of his surprise, he closed the door and continued on. Glancing out the window on the other side of the hallway, Harry saw that ruined cityscape of London passing by. But despite the relative speeds they were moving at, he didn't hear the sound of the road beneath him nor feel the bumps in the road. Perhaps the motorhome was lined with numerous Cushioning and Silencing charms to make the journey more enjoyable and bearable?

Moving the next door, he found what looked like some kind of laboratory. There were numerous potions supplies lining the tables and counters, more than a few Muggle devices like microscopes and heaters. Now what would a man like Darius Stone need with stuff like this? He struck Harry as more of a fighter than a scientist or researcher. Closing the door, he continued on towards the final door of the hallway. Opening it, he found himself in what was clearly a garage. It was littered with all kinds of Muggle tools and knickknacks, a black sports car with its hood opened, the man's earlier motorcycle was parked behind next to it, and Harry could see several different types of brooms hanging haphazardly upon racks near the back wall that was clearly some kind of doorway ramp.

Confused but not discouraged, Harry pulled away and closed the door. Turning around, he moved back to the doorway that hid the stairs. Clearly that was where the bedrooms were since none of the rooms on this floor were. Despite himself and the situation he was, Harry couldn't help but find himself already starting to like this motorhome. It was nice mix between the Magical and Muggle Worlds that he had never seen before in Wizarding Britain. Though he could understand the likely reasons, Harry found himself disappointed that he hadn't heard of anything like this during his time in Hogwarts.

The second floor was much like the first floor in that it was lined with a long hallway. Rather than lug his trunk throughout the hallway like he had on the first floor, he set it aside to walk down the hall and inspect each room himself. There were at least five different rooms on this floor. The front most room was obviously Darius' because of the 'lived in' feeling that it gave off. It had numerous clothes thrown about it, different kinds of guns and weapons lining the walls, and the bed sheets were wrinkled.

The other rooms were caught Harry by surprise in the fact that they were clearly modeled different than Darius' and each other. One room seemed to use the ocean, coral, and fish as a theme. It was covered in a soft, ocean-blue coloring, with magical pictures of the ocean and aquatic life. There was a quiet but noticeable noise that filled the room, instantly reminding Harry of the crashing of waves on the beach. And, much to Harry's pleasant surprise, the bed doubled as a water bed and a fish tank that housed several different kinds of fish. The next room used fire as a theme. It was a very warm room with gold and red being the primary color schemes with flame decorations covering the furniture. Despite the Gryffindor color scheme, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted this one and he was curious what the last two remaining rooms were like.

The next room used forests and the jungle as the theme. Predictably, it was filled with browns and greens and it had numerous plants growing throughout it. The walls were covered in a large, magical painting of a forest, complete with even different kinds of animals like deer, foxes, and raccoons. Though seemingly more peaceful, Harry closed the door after a quick inspection and moved onto the next room. This final room immediately caught Harry's interest. It gave the sensation as of living in the sky. The ceiling was the same as Hogwarts in that it showed the sky above and matched the walls to it. Thus, Harry suddenly felt as though he was walking through the air among the clouds above him. The primary color scheme of this room was currently sky blue and hazy white. Harry could see that even the bed sheets were magically charmed to match the coloring of the sky. With a small grin, Harry hurried back to his trunk and quickly dragged it into his new room.

If this was just a small sample of what he was could expect of the strange man named Darius Stone, Harry felt that his time with the man was going to be extremely memorable.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Well, not much to say this time.

Although I have to admit that I'm very happy to have finally been able to introduce Darius Stone and his motorhome. Darius Stone in an interesting character to me because his identity has shifted so many times during my initial planning stages of who he was and what he did for a living. Suffice to say that I hope he'll become a character that many of you will grow to like as well.

Also, for those you who've read my other more recent fanfics, you'll likely notice the return of a familiar villain. Aleron Delahaye, who first appeared in GSD: Kira, then returned in Mirage, has once again shown his face. He is my way of adding balance to whatever changes I hope to make in this story. Alas, Harry Potter has gotten the American-born Darius Stone and Voldemort has recently enlisted the French-bred Dark wizard Aleron Delahaye.


	5. Wavering Flames

**The Outlaw  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 5—Wavering Flames_

**July 6, 1996  
Saturday, 12:50pm  
Wiltshire, Stonehenge**

With a world-weary sigh, Albus Dumbledore dropped into the chair of his private study at the Order's new secret headquarters. The past two days of searching the many Gringotts banks, finding and acquiring what he believed he was after, and then escaping Gringotts and the Hebridean swarm was nothing short of an exhausting experience, even for one such as him.

Looking down at the goblet that he strongly suspected to be that of Helga Hufflepuff herself, Dumbledore just felt a yearning sadness fall over him. What he was planning to do with this legendary and priceless artifact of Hogwarts history was as villainous as it was blasphemous. And he knew that that had been Tom's purpose in choosing this item as the instrument for containing his soul fragment in.

Tearing his gaze away from the cup, Albus walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the chamber and withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor. Hefting the goblin blade up, he hesitated for one eternal moment before bringing the sword down on the priceless artifact.

How could he even _think_ of doing this? This cup was worth _more_ than one hundred times its weight in gold. It was a proud remainder of the humble beginnings of the _greatest_ magically school in history. And who knew just what _other_ secrets it held beneath the surface? It was as that thought was trickling through his mind that Dumbledore realized that those thoughts hadn't been his own. Focusing his sharp mind on the intruding presence that had taken refuge there, he 'turned' to face it head on and shoved it forcefully from his mind.

It was then that a black and gray vapor began to emit from the cup itself. Dumbledore watched it, cautiously keeping himself at the ready for any more tricks. He watched as the vapor condensed to form a familiar face that sent a stake of regret and overwhelming sadness through his heart. The vapor had gathered into his sister's face.

"Albus, what are you doing?" 'she' asked, sounding and looking very scared and hurt. "If you do that, I will die. There will be no chance of ever being able to bring me back."

Despite himself, Dumbledore found himself lowering Gryffindor's sword as he stared yearningly at Ariana's face. "I'm sorry, my dear sister…I do not understand. What do you mean in that?"

"Helga's Cup has the ability of granting the drinker his or her dearest wish," Ariana answered, looking hopeful that he might believe her. "And what you desire more than anything is the chance to see me come back and live the life I had been robbed of. All you need to do is drink from this cup and give me a little of your magic, and it will be done."

The offer was tempting, so _extremely_ tempting! For that was indeed one of his most dearest wishes, alongside getting his dear best friend back, before he'd gotten twisted by the promises and perils of power. Dumbledore was actually just a few seconds away of complying with the instructions when his sharp mind caught something. Ariana had said she would 'die' and that apparently all she needed was a 'little' of his magic to be brought back. But if that were true, wouldn't have Helga Hufflepuff have used that power as well? Would it have been known, if only in rumors? That thought made him realize he was being tricked.

Hefting the sword back up over his head, he gave the cup one last look before closing his eyes and delivering the strike. With a terrible shrieking sound, the vapor hovering over the cup was sliced in two as the blade passed through it. A split second later, the cup shattered as the empowered sword smashed into and through it. With one final scream, the vapor dissipated and vanished like smoke in the wind.

Stepping away from the wreckage, Albus stared down mournfully at it before returning the sword to the cabinet. Waving his wand over the debris, Albus stared sadly at the ruined pieces that remained of Hufflepuff's cup. His theory was correct: the basilisk venom in Gryffindor's sword was quite sufficient at completely destroying the soul piece.

"Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Severus?" Albus asked as he picked up the cup's debris carefully, almost reverently actually.

Stepping forward into the light, the foreboding figure of Severus Snape appeared. "Was that really necessary, Headmaster?"

"I'm afraid so, Severus," Albus answered as he turned and gently placed the pieces of the cup onto a shelf in the cabinet with the sword. "I have finally discovered how and why Tom was able to survive all those years ago, and thus how to finally kill him."

"What?" Severus asked, surprised and hopeful at once.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Dumbledore explained calmly. "I cannot explain it to you just yet. Not until I've nearly finished with the task I have set out to accomplish."

"But what if you get killed or incapacitated before you can finish this task?" Severus questioned, regaining his calm and composure.

"Never fear, Severus," Dumbledore answered with a waning smile. "I have already thought out all possible contingency plans. But we're getting off subject. What is it that you came here to tell me?"

"Just an update on Voldemort," Severus answered.

Nodding, Dumbledore motioned to the man to take a seat. As the younger man was doing so, Dumbledore summoned a pair of glasses of Firewhiskey and some of leftovers of Molly's home-cooked dinner from the previous night. Although he poured himself a glass, Severus didn't bother trying any of Molly's food. After watching Dumbledore start digging into his meal, he motioned for Severus to start his report.

"Things are getting very pressured right now," Snape began. "Voldemort has sent Lucius Malfoy abroad to search for more new recruits for his Death Eater ranks but also for foreign aid in the recovery and reconstruction efforts. I do believe that the first of these new recruits are scheduled to arrive in Great Britain late next week, along with any other foreign aid Lucius was able to acquire."

"Do you know what type of aid Tom is requesting for?" Dumbledore asked.

"Mostly it was for more Beast Executioners to deal with the dragons and construction crews to help with building the new Ministry building and various other Diagon Alley shops," Snape answered easily. "I believe that Voldemort is planning to turn Hogsmeade into the new center of our Wizarding World, while leaving London to the dragons and Muggles."

After a moment of contemplation, Dumbledore nodded his agreement in Snape's guess. For a man who despised everything that was about Muggles, it seemed quite like Tom to do such a thing now that he had the perfect excuse and opportunity to. Completely separating from and severing all contact with the Muggles by relocating the major government and business centers of Magical Britain into the one remaining pure-magical village in Great Britain.

"But that's not the end of it," Snape continued. "With the loss of the Alleys and having to negotiate the Goblins into relocating as well, the Ministry treasury is nearly empty of funds. The Dark Council is suggesting he starts charging high taxes for all Muggleborns. And I suspect that he's planning to…replace Fudge with a new and more _competent_ Minister. That way he wouldn't have to continue the charade of having a buffoon in charge and to help alleviate some suspicions."

"Oh dear," was all Dumbledore could say to that.

If it was Voldemort's plan to use a Pureblood-friendly Ministry to cause civil war with the numerically superior Muggleborns, this would be the quickest and surest way of initiating it. Of the thirty thousand wizards in Great Britain, only about two thousand of them were Purebloods. And while they might have knowledge of the finer points of magic that could give them an advantage in a civil war, the death toll would be incredibly high on both sides before the fighting finally stopped. And that wasn't even including the new recruits that Severus had mentioned earlier that would be coming in to bolster the Death Eaters' ranks.

"It would appear that I had better carry out my hunt much more quickly than I originally intended," Dumbledore said. Looking up at Snape with an extremely penetrating gaze, he considered the man for a long moment, making Severus want to shift slightly in his discomfort at its intensity. "Severus, I do believe that it is time I finally stepped down. I name you as the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"M-Me?" Snape stuttered in surprise, his eyes widening fractionally at the declaration. "But, Headmaster, surely—"

"My choice has already been made," Dumbledore interrupted firmly. "I trust you to not let any of the children be unjustly treated or mysteriously disappear. Voldemort will kill me eventually, and I would rather have a man of my own choosing leading and protecting the school rather than someone…not so trustworthy. Besides, this gives me time to properly train and protect young Harry until he's able to fulfill his role in what's to come."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Severus bowed deeply in acceptance of not only the man's reasons but also of the title and responsibilities he bestowed him. However, that wasn't to say that he was going to be looking forward to that job, especially when Potter finally resurfaced.

"Now, come, Severus," Dumbledore said, suddenly seeming his old grandfatherly self. "Let us fellow Headmasters talk and reminisce over days gone by."

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**1:01pm  
London, Platform 9¾**

As was the norm for the past few days, the magical train platform was alive and jam-packed with far too many people, even though it had been expanded to nearly five times its previous length. The beloved red locomotive that was the Hogwarts Express, as always, was the epicenter of the massive crowd that filled the platform. Normally, the train was only used twice a year to ferry students and the occasional teacher to the northern tip of Scotland and the magical school that waited there. But in light of the emergency situation and the approaching apocalypse that was the Hebridean Black dragon swarm, the magical train had been pressed into service earlier and well after its usual times of service.

Rather than ferrying children towards their homes and awaiting families, it was being used to carry as much of everything that the wizarding folk could squeeze aboard it and its compartments. The normal twenty passenger compartments had been replaced with over one hundred cargo carriages. Each of the carriages had been divided into different sections, such as the food and produce portion at the rear, magical artifacts and important items ahead of that, furniture and other living necessities towards the center, forbidden or confidential Ministry stuff ahead of that, potions and their many different ingredients ahead of that, and the remainder of the St. Mungo's patients towards the front.

People were racing to fill as much of the magically-expanded interiors of these carriages as they could before the platform official decreed that it was no longer safe to remain within the ruins of the once bustling city of London. With the sounds of many explosions and high caliber machine gun fire that were steadily drawing nearer in the distance, the sense of urgency and fear were substantially increasing. If one were to look on the horizon, past the charred and smoking buildings, they could've easily seen trails and streaks of light from missiles, anti-aircraft fire, and mortar explosions flashing through the air. Along with the shrieks of jetfighters, attack helicopters, and other aircraft that were filling the skies, trying frantically to stop or at least stall the massive swarm of approaching dragons that were hell-bent of reaching the city that held so many appetizing scents and creatures for them to dine on.

Throughout it all, one man stood apart of the rest. He and a select few others were standing in the front most carriage that had been hurriedly refitted into a type of office. About twenty wizards were sitting at desks, using magic to constantly tally and keep track of everything that entered the carriages. It was a highly demanding and extremely fast-paced job that pushing the poor wizards who gotten selected for the job to their limits.

But one Percy Weasley wasn't going to be the first (or even one of them) who complained about the brutal pace that they were being pushed at. He understood just how incredibly important a task they were doing and he wouldn't allow any hiccups in the reports to come from _his_ end!

"Still working hard, Weasley?" a familiar voice asked over his shoulder.

"Yes, Minister," he answered without breaking his concentration from his work. "It's a very demanding job."

"Indeed it is, carry on with the good work," Fudge said before he turned as walked over to his advisers.

Despite himself, Percy glanced quickly up at the Minister with a small smile. Now there was a man who truly showed his worth when the going got tough. Percy firmly believed that if it weren't for the Minister's quick and easy thinking in the crises that they were experiencing these past few weeks, the Wizarding World wouldn't have been in nearly as good a shape as they were now.

And to think that his _**dear**_ _family_ had been trying to tell him not to support him for the majority of the year! But who were _they_ to talk when they openly accepted and tried spreading the lies and misinformation that _miscreant brat_ and a man who was secretly plotting to take over the Ministry for _himself? _Of course, Percy knew better. And he even knew of what the Minister's goals and dreams were in the coming years.

Truly, Minister Fudge was Merlin's gift to all Wizarding folk!

Quickly returning his attention to his work, Percy carried on with his job of hastily counting and sorting through the mess that was appearing on his desk.

Fudge walked up to the locomotive engine compartment. Looking around, he saw that he was alone in the compartment. Turning, he watched the horizon as the pitiful Muggles continued to put up their worthless defenses. He could see that a great deal of the flashes and explosions had died off since the last time he'd looked. That could only mean that the dragons finally overran them

Still, as completely futile as it had been, those Muggles were putting up one _hell_ of a fight. That much Fudge had to grudgingly admit to since he had fully expected them to crumble and flee like the lesser beings they were as soon as they came face to face with the first of the dragons. Just like how so many of their so-called knights and heroes of centuries past had. They'd provoked a dragon, left the _real_ fight to the wizards, and took all the glory of the victory for themselves from the Muggles of the village or town they'd supposedly saved. He couldn't believe that he, at one time, had actually been somewhat fair-minded towards those…_things_.

'_It would seem that Muggles have grown something of a backbone since those days_,' Fudge thought to himself, already knowing the reason why. In contempt, he practically spat out, "_Muggles_ and their _guns_."

"Minister," a voice behind said. "I've just had word that the dragons have passed the Muggles' second defense line. They'll be within the city borders in less than half an hour at this rate. I strongly recommend we leave now!"

Turning to face the speaker, Fudge saw that it was old Mr. Otto Lexiwood, the Express conductor. The old man was jittery from fright with a slightly panicked breathing. If it weren't for the oppressive cool calmness that had settled over and taken control of his mind since the chaos of Diagon Alley, Fudge knew he'd have been in exactly the same state, if not even more so.

"Are we finished loading?" he asked calmly as he turned his gaze back out to the horizon.

"N-No," Lexiwood answered. "_But that's not the point!_ If we don't leave _now_, we won't be able to _escape_ the dragons without them _spotting_ us! They'll _destroy_ the Express and _everyone_ on it before we even left the _city!_"

"Then I guess we better hurry and finish loading," Fudge said, not at all disturbed by Lexiwood's panic. "We leave in twenty minutes or when we finish loading, whichever comes first. Make the announcement."

Though the man had paled to nearly sheet white, he complied with the order and picked a microphone to repeat the announcement.

This train would be the very last to leave London, heavily laden down with everything the Wizarding World had managed to scavenge from the wreckage of their Ministry, hospital, and shopping alleys. And with this final train load, the Wizarding World would have nothing more to do with the Muggle city ever again. Like Stonehenge before it, London would now be left purely to the Muggles to fend for…or rather, the dragons at this point. With his magnificent new Ministry nearing completion in Hogsmeade, Fudge's plans for reclaiming Scotland from the lesser beings that had long ago overrun and overpopulated it would be one step closer to fulfillment. Plans that he had only shared with one person at this point, the ever helpful and respectful red-haired Weasley. Now _there_ was a boy who was going to go _far_ in life.

Oh yes, it was _long _past time Wizards started reclaiming that which was _rightfully theirs!_ Fudge knew he _alone_ had what it took to make Scotland, and eventually _all_ of Great Britain, into a _true_ paradise of the Wizarding World!

To be sure that what they reclaimed would remain in their possession, he would probably have to redouble his Aurors. Maybe he should also create a new branch of them to help them weed out the undesirable elements that lurked just below the surface. Starting with that retched liar and completely unworthy excuse of a boy who didn't deserve the priceless gift of magic he'd been bestowed.

Harry Potter would answer for all of his heinous crimes, slowly and painfully!

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**1:06pm  
Hogsmeade Village, Shrieking Shack**

"The dragons are entering London as we speak, my Lord," one of his faceless Death Eaters informed him. "Fudge has ordered nearly the Ministry's entire Auror force to defend the Express as they make their journey here."

"Good," Voldemort purred as he lovingly stroked his dear Nagini. Looking around the conference room, he frowned when he saw that someone prominent had yet to arrive. "Where is Severus?"

Various heads began glancing amongst one another, searching for the answer.

"My Lord," squeaked an unpleasantly familiar voice. When the entire room's attention was suddenly drawn to him, Peter seemed to almost shrink lower into his nearly-vacant seat than he already was. If it weren't for some sliver of a spine that he had, he would've sprinted for the nearest exit that he could find when he noticed the Dark Lord's serpentine gaze was on him as well. "I-I-I-I know where Sn-Snape is. He said that—that he had to speak with…Dumbledore about something."

"Really?" Voldemort drawled. His gaze turning almost murderous as a thin smile began to spread across his lips. Though whether it was for Snape or Peter was debatable. "And did he just happen to mention anything _worth knowing about,_ Wormtail?"

"He-He-He said he was going to try t-t-to talk P-P-Potter's location out of him, my Lord!" Wormtail hurriedly stuttered out, feeling acutely aware of how much danger he was in. "And if Dumbledore had succeeded in his p-p-p-project in Gringotts."

"Aw, very good," Voldemort said, his killing intent seeming to vanish completely.

"My Lord," Avery spoke up. "It has come to my attention that Dumbledore seems to be acting far more aggressively than he ever has in the past. Would it not be wise to keep that filthy Mudblood off your Council, where he's sure to hear your plans and pass them on?"

"You question my judgment?" Voldemort asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper. The feeling of impending doom returned, twice as powerful and yet even more dangerous because it was trying to hide itself.

"N-N-No, my Lord!" Avery stuttered out. "I-I just do not trust that man."

"Is that so?" Voldemort's tone and volume hadn't changed in the least. "You know that the only way onto my Council is if I determine my underling's worthy of the position. And Severus has time and again delivered to me very useful information; information that not even the whole of the Ministry had been able to gain me. It is my faith and trust that I place into every man and woman who serves on my Council. And now you are questioning that same faith and trust I have placed in you by questioning my decision in Severus. Is that right?"

Poor Avery was caught between a rock and a hard place, and everyone knew it. The only sound in the room was that of Bellatrix trying to quietly restrain her giggling at what she and everyone else knew was coming.

Sure enough, the Dark Lord idly pointed his wand towards the man and muttered, "_Crucio!_"

Avery was knocked out of his seat and sent to the floor in a convulsing mass of torturous, mind-crippling agony. After only a few moments, though they must've felt like an eternity to Avery, Voldemort released the man and allowed him to numbly climb back to his feet and hesitantly reclaim his seat. "Don't forget that it was I who has placed you on this Council, and I can remove you from it just as easily. Severus has his uses to me, which is why he's allowed to sit with us."

Turning his attention back to his Dark Council, he said, "Nevertheless, while Severus may be loyal to me, I do not trust Dumbledore. So, how goes the preparations for our little coup d'état this evening?"

"We are progressing on schedule, my Lord," Amycus Carrow answered immediately and calmly. "We've already staked out a location along the tracks that the Express will travel. And I've heard that Greyback wishes to be a part of the operation. His werewolves in Wales would be an excellent distraction for the Aurors who are protecting the train while we sneak aboard, my Lord."

Considering the idea, Voldemort nodded his head in acceptance. "Do it. Contact Greyback and relocate him to the ambush site. And make sure that you kill Fudge in a way that keeps the people from knowing it's me behind this. Wouldn't want them to start blaming our _dear_ 'outlaw' friend now, would we?" That statement drew a few chuckles from the gathered councilors as they glanced about each other in dark amusement towards _poor_ Harry Potter's plight.

Glancing between each of his underlings, Voldemort suddenly got an intriguing idea. "And inform my Death Eaters of my latest _reward_. If they are able to bring Potter to me _before_ next weekend, I shall make that person the _new_ Minister of Magic."

That got everyone's attention in an instant.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**1:23pm  
Outskirts of London**

The train was finally moving. Even though it was cloaked under a layer of hastily applied Disillusionment Charms, every single witch and wizard who'd been drafted into escort duty of the Express were positively on edge with nerves and overwhelming fear. It was a well-founded fear that the swarm of approaching Hebridean Blacks would notice the disillusioned train, see it as prey, and attack with all of their well-documented ferocity.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," one of the Aurors was quietly muttering to themselves, watching the skies like everyone else. "I hate this… Why couldn't it have Hippogriffs who were rampaging around the world or Giants, Trolls, or even Goblins? Why did it have to be _dragons?_ I _hate_ dragons!"

"Will you shut up?" one of companions hissed bad-temperedly. "If you spoke any louder, you'd probably get their attention and bring them down on us!"

"Don't even joke about that!" the Auror yelped fearfully.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd shut the bloody fuck up!" the second snapped. "Shut up or I swear that I'll throw you to them if you bring them down on us!"

"That's enough!" Percy snapped at them. He was a little ways further down the carriage, but he could hear their heated whisperings clearly in the otherwise silent tension that was filling the carriage. "We're all scared and your paranoid delusions and arguments aren't helping anyone! Now keep your eyes on the sky or I'll have you reassigned to Azkaban guard duty."

Azkaban was of course one of several jobs that all Aurors prayed that they'd never have to do, for obvious reasons. The fact that Percy, as the Junior Undersecretary of the Minister, had the power to do as he threatened was more than enough to shut both of them up immediately.

Time seemed to slowly pass as seconds stretched into hours and hours into days. The jittery wizards had their eyes focused on the skies around them as the invisible train began to slowly gain speed and momentum, steadily drawing ever further away from the city of London and the passing horde of Blacks that flew over their heads. If not for a small lurch that jostled the train as it passed over a small section of uneven railing, the Express just might've escaped the London area without any problems.

However, this small hiccup in the train track sent a small bounce through the train compartments. Because of how tightly and haphazardly packed they had been stored due the wizards' rush to fill as much space as they could, they hadn't had the time to realize that they were setting up a potential disaster. A teetering stack of potion ingredients were jarred loose and sent tumbling off their place.

With a smash, the glass jars holding the ingredients shattered as they collided with one another and the flooring. Because of the various natures of these ingredients when mixed together, the reaction was almost an eruption of flammable gases that began filling the carriage. After only a brief moment, the gases began reacting to smoke-tainted air of the city around the train. Flames burst to life instantaneously, spreading through the carriage within seconds.

Sadly none of the wizards spotted the danger until it was far too late. Because most of their attentions were more focused on the sky and the dragons (especially the wizards towards the front carriages), they failed to notice the trail of black smoke they were leaving behind them. But soon enough, the wizards in the back of the train spotted the flames and quickly raised the alarm. They scrambled over one another to reach the carriage and hurriedly drown the flames, saving what they could of the ingredients. But it was too little too late by then.

A dragon was bearing down on them.

At first the dragon had swooped low over them, examining its prey. A few brave, foolish, or trigger-happy wizards had sent out a few volleys of curses, charms, and jinxes, trying to dissuade the flying beast from returning. But all they did was provoke it, taking the attacks as a challenge. Circling around, it flew up alongside the still-smoldering carriage, which was also still the only one it could see.

Either through fear or being ordered to, none of the wizards in the carriages closest to the dragon tried attacking the beast as it flew beside them. After a moment of it staring at the moving pillar of smoke with a clear intelligence behind those golden eyes, the dragon pulled away. At first, the wizards let out a collective sigh of relief. It was leaving them alone. It must've decided that they weren't worth the trouble.

"It was only playing with us," the Auror from earlier muttered, relief obvious in his voice. "Thank you, great Merlin."

"It wasn't playing with us, _fool_," one of the others growled, his eyes tracking the creature as it flew higher into the air. "It was probing us."

"What are you talking about?" the Auror asked, uncomprehendingly. "It didn't attack us. It must've not been interested—"

"Of course it didn't attack us!" the man snapped, glaring disgustedly at the Auror. "It was sizing us up first. _Now_ it's going to attack us!"

As if summoned by the man's words, there came a loud hissing roar that could be clearly heard over the din of the train engine. Seconds later, the dragon swooped low over the train again, breathing out a long trail of flame that encompassed the entire chain of carriages. The powerful dragon flames instantly caused the feeble Disillusionment Charms to falter and drop. Chaos erupted aboard the train as the wizards and witches scrambled to extinguish the dragon flames and save what they could of the Express' precious cargo from the conflagration.

No one had time or the presence of mind to really keep track of the dragon. So the wizards in the front most carriage behind the engine were caught by surprise when the ceiling suddenly collapsed in on them, pinning quite a few men and women under debris. Among those caught by surprise and trapped was Cornelius Fudge himself, knocked off his feet by a long, heavy piece of a wooden ceiling beam. It landed heavily upon his right shoulder, breaking his weak, old collar and shoulder bones.

"Minister, look out!" someone yelled.

Fudge only had enough time to look up from where he was lying. The sight he saw before his world erupted in bone-crushing agony was the massive maw and dagger-like teeth of the dragon's jaw as it descended upon him. Fudge never even got a chance to scream in pain before his crushed body vanished down the dragon's throat.

The Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was dead.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**1:47pm**

Once the dragon had had its fill of eating the poor wizards who'd been trapped inside the front carriage with the Minister, it had lifted off and disappeared, leaving the remaining wizards to battle its still-burning fires.

A few Aurors had, in their panic, Apparated to Hogsmeade in a vain attempt to get reinforcements (and to escape that death trap that the train had become). Alas, news of Fudge's death spread quickly through the Ministry and Hogsmeade, and thus the English Wizarding World in general.

In next to no time, nearly everyone knew of attack. Though the Express would eventually limp into Hogsmeade Station within another six or seven hours, plans and discussions were being hurriedly revised, reviewed, and even concealed. And among those was a certain ambush force that had been sent to kill Fudge.

Greyback's reaction to the news had been that of considerable disappointment. Once he'd vented his rage, his first calm statement to the news had been a rather jeering remark of: "We have been sent on a fool's errand, to assassinate a Minister who's already dead?"

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**July 7, 1996  
Sunday, 7:10am  
Gloucestershire, Cotswold Hills**

A loud buzzing of an alarm jarred Harry from his sleep. With his body moving on its own to shut off the infernal mechanism, Harry's consciousness dragged itself out of its drowsy state and slowly started rebooting itself. For a moment, he just laid back in the sheets and soft pillows of his bed, thoroughly enjoying just how comfortable they were. He could honestly say that, at that moment, if he had the choice to remain in bed for the rest of the day, he gladly would've. But as it was, the more his mind began to awaken, so did his body and he became aware of an immediate need to relieve himself. After doing his business in the restroom, which included taking a quick shower, he changed into a new set of clothes and walked outside.

Moving through the motorhome was almost an exercise in memory for Harry. At first he had to reorient himself with where he first remembered the stairs were, and then he had to remember which direction led to the kitchen and not the garage. Much to his embarrassment, he'd actually mixed up that second part and found himself staring at Darius' indoor garage. Thankfully, the man wasn't there to see his blunder and Harry carefully schooled his expression to keep his slight embarrassment from showing on his face as he reached the door at the opposite end of the hall.

As soon as the door opened, a tantalizing aura of cooking food washed over Harry. The smell was so alluring that it almost caused him to start drooling in hunger. Looking towards the source of the delicious smell, he found Darius standing before the oven, handling the sizzling food with the easy expertise of years of experience.

"Morning, Harry," the man said without turning to look at him as Harry moved quietly into the room. "What kind of egg do you want, scrambled or over easy?"

"Uh…over easy?" Harry answered hesitantly. Looking around, he saw that the table hadn't been set yet. "Where're the dishes, sir?"

"Darius," the man corrected easily as he vaguely waved his hand over towards a section of cabinets and drawers. "And they're right over there."

After several minutes of silence after Harry picked out the dishes and set the table, Darius finished his cooking and Harry found that his meal was some eggs, toast with grape jelly, hash browns, sausage, and a large glass of milk. The food looked every bit as appetizing as it smelled. The slight ache in his stomach reminded Harry of just how little he'd eaten the previous day due to his overwhelming sense of dread for the events that had been taking place around him (the dragons attacking London, the Muggles frantic defense and flight from the city, and his mysterious new savior). Thus Harry practically fell upon the meal with a voracious viciousness.

Once the meal had been devoured and Harry set about doing the dishes as a 'thank you' for Darius, the black man had dropped down into one of the chairs and pulled out a folder of news clippings and other separate articles to read and study. Looking over at the man as he finished washing the dishes, Harry finally asked the question that he'd been dying to know since the previous day. "You said you were going to explain to me why you needed my help."

"Yes, I did," Darius nodded as he looked over at the boy, setting down what he'd been reading. "Tell me, Harry, have you read a lot of the international news recently?"

"I try not to," Harry said quietly, looking away in disgust at the potent memories of all the recent Daily Prophet articles. Feeling Darius' questioning gaze on him, Harry hastily elaborated, "The Minister has had the wizarding newspapers condemning me as a liar, attention-seeker, and a psychopath for the past year because he doesn't want to believe that Voldemort's returned… I tend to get _very_ angry when I read that stuff lately."

"I see," Darius muttered. "Have you at least paid attention to what's been happening with the dragons before they finally broke loose?"

Harry shook his head as he looked at the man imploringly. "Why? What's been happening? Has it been going on for a while now?"

The man let out a wary sigh. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a schoolboy wouldn't pay attention to news that isn't immediately important to his everyday life."

"What do—?"

"How familiar are you with the Mundanes' side of life?" Darius interrupted.

"Eh…Mundanes, sir?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Mundanes are what we 'Yanks' call non-magical people," Darius clarified. "We find the terms 'Mudblood' and 'Muggle' to be _extremely_ offensive, especially since most of us aren't like the inbred Purebloods that control the majority of European society…No offense, Potter."

"None taken," Harry said lamely as he processed what the black man had just told him. "Um…I was raised with my Aunt and Uncle until I got my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven. So I guess I'm _fairly_ familiar with Mug… eh, Mundanes."

"Have you heard of the Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy that's started spreading throughout England's cow livestock about ten years ago?" Darius asked, glancing at Harry. Spotting the blank look of incomprehension on Harry's face, Darius added, "It's commonly called the 'Mad Cow's Disease' nowadays."

"Oh…" Harry muttered, still kind of confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You really don't know how the world works, do you?" Darius muttered to himself, in an almost pitying tone. "It has _everything_ to do with what's been happening recently. You see, despite our magic, Wizards would still have to breed and raise livestock just as the Mundanes do. However, because there're so many more Mundanes than Wizards, many Wizarding communities tend to just purchase their food from the Mundanes rather than having to do all the extra work of butchering and processing the meat and produce themselves."

"That kind of makes sense," Harry muttered to himself.

"Yes," Darius agreed. "However, because of the scorn that most Wizards feel towards Mundanes, even in America unfortunately, we tend to try to ignore most things that Mundanes do if they don't have anything to do with us or if it isn't immediately important. So when the cattle started getting sick with a strange new disease that scientists still haven't found a cure for, the Mundanes had to find a way to dispose of the contaminated meat and animals before they were processed and eaten by people. Because we Wizards don't pay attention to the Mundanes all that much, many Wizarding merchants considered themselves lucky to suddenly be able to purchase nearly fifty percent more cattle for nearly half the usual price."

"But if we've been eating infected beef…" Harry couldn't even find it in himself to finish his sentence in horror at the thought.

"Don't worry, Harry," Darius said in a surprisingly soothing tone. "For most countries, they usually use their Mundane-purchased cattle to feed their hordes of Magical Creatures, like dragons and other wildlife, to keep them better contained in their preserves. And that is why we are here today."

"You mean because the dragons were eating infected cows, they got sick themselves?" Harry asked, finally seeing where this was going.

"That's what my father and I believe, yes," Darius answered, gazing down towards the news clippings that were resting on the table before him.

"You don't know for certain?"

"My father was a dragon researcher by profession," Darius said. "When the dragons first started acting differently, he was one of the first to notice. He studied the strange behavior, their environment, and their diets very closely. As far as he was able to determine, the Mad Cow's Disease was the only explanation for what was happening to them. However, none of his fellow researchers agreed with his theories."

"Why?" Harry asked. "It seems fairly obvious to me."

"But the problem with that theory is that the original cow disease has _very_ different symptoms to what the dragons are showing," Darius explained. "See, the original disease is something that attacks the brain and nervous system. It can lead to dementia, personality changes, jerky movements, loss of balance and coordination. Most victims will die of pneumonia because of impaired coughing muscles."

"Eh…" That was all Harry could really say to that. That sounded gross…and painful.

"It's an awful way to die, I assure you," Darius said. "But that's not what's going on with the dragons. The specimens my father studied all had an extremely high increase in muscle growth, aggression, their reproductive cycles, and they'd usually become extremely protective of their respective territories, mates, and offspring… That's how my father died. He got too close to the dragon he was studying."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry was silent for a moment as he thought over everything that he had just heard. "Do you think that the dragons that'd eaten the cows with the disease might've caused it to…change…or evolve into something _different_?"

"That's my theory," Darius said. "It wouldn't be the first time a common disease changed after it came into contact with a magical creature. That's how Dragon Pox came to be what it is today… And dragons are _highly_ magical and extremely powerful creatures."

"So…why do you need my help with this?" Harry asked.

Glancing over at the boy from the corner of his eye, Darius said, "Because you are a very highly influential figure in the Wizarding Community, regardless of whatever lies or deceptions people are trying to spread about you. When you talk, people will listen. When you move, people will watch you. When you laugh, cry, or turn your back, _people will notice_. I need you to tell people about my father's theories, make them aware of it, and get them to consider them. It's only after people start understanding the cause of this disease that we can start doing something about it that'll actually work."'

"But I'm an Undesirable…an outlaw now," Harry said quietly, trying to rein in his rising temper at what sounded like something Rita Skeeter had once told him. "I can't help you, even though I really want to. I'd just be thrown into Azkaban or handed over to Voldemort."

"You're right," Darius admitted. "Right now, you're powerless. But don't forget; with politics, the situation is always…fluid. It's always moving and changing. What you're guilty of right now, you might not be guilty of tomorrow or next week. But what we're dealing with _isn't_ politics."

"So…what are you going to do with me in the meantime?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to keep you on the move and safe," Darius answered immediately. "But don't misunderstand, Harry. This isn't a picnic we're on. I will keep you safe and hidden, but this isn't a free ride you're on. Aside from helping me with the disease, you have to earn your keep while you're with me."

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked guardedly. He knew being asked for favors from near-total strangers was a very bad idea, almost as bad as running off with strangers! But then, he'd already bumbled that rule too.

"You are going to help me keep this thing—" he gestured around them, clearly indicating the motorhome. "clean and livable. You're not going to leave here without a disguise, even if all you want to do is step outside. And you're going to continue your education."

"But I can't!" Harry said instantly, sitting up straighter. "The Ministry has a Trace on me that—"

"Was destroyed with the Ministry's collapse," Darius interrupted, silencing Harry immediately. After staring at Harry's disbelieving gaze, Darius quirked an eyebrow as he asked, "Did someone tell you not to use magic despite the Ministry being destroyed?"

"How…How do you know all this?" Harry asked quietly, feeling both hopeful that he might be able to use magic and rising anger at Professor Dumbledore for apparently lying to him. And after being ignored by the man all year long, Harry's anger towards him felt much more potent that it probably should've been. "Professor Dumbledore said…"

"There are many things that I know, Harry," Darius said, looking away from the boy with an expression that Harry had seen many times on himself. It was an expression of a man who was carrying a great burden on his shoulders and yet couldn't share it with anyone, for whatever reason. It was an expression that strangely caused Harry's simmering anger to soften and dissipate by the time the man turned his attention back to Harry. "And one thing that I know for certain is that when your Ministry had been destroyed, a great many things were either disrupted or otherwise destroyed beyond all repair."

"You're talking about all that chaos that's been happening lately because the collapse, aren't you?" Harry asked, feeling as though he were suddenly about to have an epiphany but hadn't yet grasped the concept.

"Yes," Darius agreed. "For example, the Floo system that you Europeans have depended on so heavily, such things are usually heavily integrated and regulated through the government for a variety of reasons. That makes the building it was stationed into as the heart of the system. And what happens when you kill the heart of a creature?" Harry's eyes suddenly widened as realization hit him of what Darius was saying. "And the Trace is just one of many things that were lost or destroyed with the Ministry's destruction."

"That means I _can_ use magic if I want to now," Harry said to himself, slightly in amazed relief.

"And that is why I want you to continue practicing and reading what you can," Darius continued. "We don't know how long you'll be on the run. It could be a few days or even a few years. Do you still have any of your school stuff with you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered quickly, returning his attention back onto the man. "Headmaster Dumbledore was able to bring me all of my school supplies and was even able to get me some of my next year textbooks."

"Good," Darius nodded in obvious relief. "I'm going to head up to Hogsmeade in a little bit. I want to know if there have been any new developments recently. You stay here and study. I don't care if you go outside, but don't forget to put on a disguise of some kind."

Harry could only nod his head at that. Turning, he walked almost numbly back to his chosen room. He had a lot to think about right now.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Sorry about the long wait. I just haven't had the time or drive until recently to really do any serious writing. Plus, for some strange reason, my interest in this story returned with a bang. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. I wonder how many of you can catch the minor quote that I added into this story.

FYI:

**Bovine spongiform encephalopathy** (BSE), commonly known as mad-cow disease is a fatal, neurodegenerative disease in cattle that causes a spongy degeneration in the brain and spinal cord. BSE has a long incubation period, about 4 years, usually affecting adult cattle at a peak age onset of four to five years, all breeds being equally susceptible. And there have been cases where humans caught the disease as well.

**PS**: For you Naruto fans, I've recently started writing a new story. It's called 'The Scroll'. I'm writing it as a _new_ form of _rebelllion_ against those who think I should stop my hobby of fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy that story and that it lives up to the high bar my Legacy series seems to have created for me to reach and surpass.


	6. Town of Fire

**The Outlaw  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 6—Town of Fire_

**July 9, 1996  
Tuesday, 9:22am  
Gloucestershire, Cotswold Hills**

It had been several days since he had joined Darius Stone and fled London. Perhaps it was cowardly of him, but he was somewhat relieved to not have been there when the dragons arrived. He hadn't had to see them spend the past few days straight burning nearly every street and building of the great city to ashes and devouring many of the residents and people still trapped inside it. Harry knew enough about trying to fight dragons from his First Task of the Triwizard Tournament to know that he never wanted to fight another one if he had the choice. Was he a bad person to be happy at putting his own life above those who were unable to defend themselves properly and to flee when they needed all the help they could get?

Based on what fragmented news he was getting from the Muggle side of the crisis, the Hebridean Blacks had turned London, a vast majority of southern England, and even portions of northern France literally into hell on earth. Dragons of all species seemed to be rampaging everywhere now. There had been sketchy reports of Fireballs burning down towns and cities in China and all over the Oriental countries, Horntails were devastating Eastern Europe and the Middle East, and the Vipertooths were torching the rainforests of South America. And those were only the reports that Darius had told him about last night.

During his time with Darius, Harry hadn't really spent all that much time doing anything but some basic cleaning, chores, and some light studying of his school textbooks. He often went through these chores robotically because his attention was often more focused on the troubling questions that continually danced around his head. Like what was happening to him now.

He was lying upon the bed in his chosen room in the motorhome staring blankly down upon the Sixth Year Charms textbook he had sprawled on the pillows in front of him. He had originally come into his room after breakfast trying to find something he could do to keep his mind off of the subject of the revelations Darius had told him of. But before he even realized it, he had drifted off into thoughts and questions with no real answers that were spiraling around his brain and through his mind at quickly growing speeds. If ever Harry had been so conflicted about his feelings over a specific person that he ended up giving himself a massive headache trying to sort out his feelings, it was right now at this point in time with Headmaster Dumbledore.

Logically, Harry could almost understand the likely reasons why Dumbledore had told him that he couldn't use magic and that the Trace was still active. The man was merely trying to keep Harry safely tucked away inside Grimmauld Place, where he would be both less inclined to use magic or get involved in what was happening in the wizarding world. Both of which could potentially put him into a dangerous position because of his Undesirable status and Voldemort's presence. Plus the man was also likely trying to protect the wizarding world as a whole by telling Harry that he still couldn't use magic, and thus alleviate some of the temptation of using it in front of Muggles accidentally.

But there was an angry, rebellious voice whispering into the back of his mind. Why should he care if he used magic in front of Muggles anymore? They already knew about dragons! When the Muggles eventually returned and started to rebuild London, they'd probably stumble across the ruins of the Ministry of Magic with no idea what it was and start asking questions. Then there was the fact that Dumbledore had once again been making important decisions about Harry's life without consulting him in the least. Not trusting him to keep the Magical World a secret by sharing with him the important news of the Trace being destroyed. What would Harry have been able to do if he'd been discovered by Death Eaters or attacked by dragons while he was in Grimmauld Place alone and he had still been under the illusion of being unable to use magic?

It was these two impassioned sides of the argument that had been battling for supremacy within his brain for the past two hours with no clear end in sight. And it was giving Harry yet another of the worst splitting headaches he'd ever experienced, just short of one of Voldemort's mind-sheering tantrums.

Why was it that the older he got, the more complicated and unclear things got in his life? He could just barely remember how things had been back in his First Year. Back when Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and nearly everything in the wizarding world were the pinnacle of all things good and Light. Only Voldemort tainted things back then because he (and only he) represented everything that was truly Dark and evil in the world. But then, as the months and years slowly passed, things began progressing. The Light began acquiring ever deepening shades of gray. Now everything seemed to be just one big haze of gray.

He didn't dispute that Voldemort was still evil-incarnate and Dumbledore was probably all that stopped the Light from being cruelly oppressed, the trials and problems Harry found himself dealing with (especially since his exile from magical society) were leaving him confused as to which side he should support anymore. He certainly didn't and would likely _never_ support Voldemort and his Pureblood campaign of genocide. But at the same time, his faith and trust in Dumbledore had been sorely damaged and burned since Voldemort's resurrection. How could he possibly support a man he just could no longer trust to keep him informed of the important issues that _actually_ mattered to him? The current and most prominent of these issues was probably the whole debacle with the prophecy, which could've been avoided if the old headmaster had told him about it beforehand! Who cares if he was an almost-sixteen-year-old boy who had no business getting involved in such matters in the first place? Besides, _they_ were forcing themselves upon _him_ and not the other way around…usually.

Letting out a loud groan of displeasure as he felt his headache worsen, Harry pushed himself off the bed and headed over to the closet. After shuffling through his clothes that he'd hung up in there several days ago, he pulled out one of his more battered and worn cloaks. Along with an old pair of jeans and a simple red t-shirt, Harry pulled the faded black cloak on and turned to the vanity mirror. With very deliberate wave of his wand, he quickly changed his hair color to match Ron's striking red. But that was quickly hidden as he pulled the large hood up over his head, hiding most of his face under shadows.

Looking over the changes to his person, Harry nodded to himself in approval. Though the glasses and his natural green eyes were strong hints, Harry shouldn't be nearly as recognizable to his fellow wizard as he had been moments earlier. Just as Darius had strongly recommended he do whenever he wanted to go outside. As he was heading towards the door, he absentmindedly picked up his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into his belt. He needed to clear his head, and maybe a good long walk would help in that regard.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**9:30am  
Hogsmeade Village, Three Broomsticks**

Darius sat at a small table set out in front of the Three Broomsticks as he sipped his coffee. On the table in front of him was the latest news article of _The Quibbler_. The most prominent news of the day was still on the Hogwarts Express tragic last ride out of London and, more specifically, the Minister of Magic's death. A good portion of the article spoke of what a great and loving man the former Minister had been and that he had been cheated by death by being taken when he was finally showing his real worth as a leader of their society in their time of true need.

With Fudge's death, the Wizengamot had been forced to do something that hadn't been done for nearly seven hundred years. In the past, when the Minister of Magic had died while in office or had to resign for whatever reason there was, a substitute Minister had to be brought in temporarily until the Wizengamot made an official decision on the successor. That job usually fell to either the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or the Senior Undersecretary of the Minister. Yet with the demolition and following relocation of the Ministry, the DMLE Head just didn't have the time to perform these higher duties. And for reasons not known to anyone, the former Undersecretary and current High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, Dolores Umbridge, had disappeared into the Forbidden Forest. She had apparently last been seen following Harry Potter and another student into the forest. It was believed that she'd been killed or otherwise incapacitated by the young Undesirable.

Thus, with Fudge's death, Scrimgeour busy pulling his Department back together, and Umbridge's disappearance, the job of substitute Minister had fallen by default onto the young and inexperienced shoulders of Percy Weasley.

Leafing through the pages and articles that were still praising Fudge, Darius fished for more information pertaining to what had survived of the dragon attack on the train. Apparently most of the merchandise did somehow manage to arrive at Hogsmeade intact, if a little scorched in some cases. The only real losses were in the form of some rare potion ingredients in the fire, which was what had caused the dragon to notice the train in the first place.

But that wasn't the only news he was looking for in regards to the dragons. Towards the back of the magazine, there was a minor article that was barely a paragraph long about how the Mundanes were in the midst of counterattacking against the dragons. It seemed that the Mundanes believed that the only reason the dragons had been able to get as far south and take over London as quickly and easily as they did was because the Royal military hadn't been able to respond quick enough to properly intercept them. But now, the Mundane soldiers were steadily marching through the barren wastelands and were mowing down all hostile dragons that stood in their way as they prepped to retake the dragon-occupied ruins of London with everything they could muster. The leader of the army said that he would sooner charge in with nothing but a pistol to fight the dragons alone head-on than to leave London and their nation in the beasts' talons. It was apparently a sentiment that was shared by nearly all soldiers in the army. Sadly, it didn't seem like the young, new Minister of Magic was interested in sending magical aid to assist the Mundanes in their endeavor.

Looking off to the side, Darius' gaze brought Hogwarts into view. Though he would admit that the castle was indeed a beautiful and magical site to behold, he couldn't help but feel a slight bit of pity for the children who were trapped within its walls. Trapped was actually a very appropriate word to be used when describing the children's situation. With the first dragon's attack on London, the Ministry's destruction, and the hundreds—if not thousands—of dragons escaping their preserves, it had been decided by the various teachers to keep the students safely tucked away within the walls of the school until the crises had been dealt with. At first it had only been a precautionary decision, but had probably ended up saving many of the students' lives when the dragons finally broke free. And according to some quiet talk he was overhearing from various Ministry employees who were likely also parents, the teachers had already decided to continue giving the students summertime classes.

'_It's happening just as I'd hoped it wouldn't_,' Darius thought to himself in resignation.

Maybe it was because of his own unique viewpoint of the situation, but Darius couldn't help but shake his head in disgust and resignation. But to him, it seemed like these were the wizarding world's first steps towards becoming far more unforgiving and demanding of its people and the poor Mundanes who were only scrambling for their own survival.

"Is this seat taken?" a tired voice asked from nearby, interrupting Darius' thoughts. Looking up, Darius saw that a young woman was standing in front of him with a tired but hopeful gaze on her pretty face. Curiously, her hair was long and a dull purple that was clearly unnatural.

Nodding towards the chair, Darius said, "Go ahead, miss. It's too quiet and gloomy sitting by one's self anyway."

The woman smiled as she took her seat, but Darius' gaze was instantly drawn up to her hair again. It was changing from that dull purple to a much brighter color, pink by the looks of it. So the woman was a Metamorphmagus? What a surprise. Taking a quick sip of her own mug of coffee, the woman said, "My name's Tonks. So, who are you?"

"Darius Stone," he answered. "So, Miss Tonks, what's got you so tired this early in the day?"

"Work," Tonks grumbled clearly. "I had to pull another all-nighter because of those damn dragons burning down everything of importance they come across. I'm actually on my way home after this."

"I see," Darius said. "It's too bad about the Minister. I hear he was finally getting his act together."

"Yeah," Tonks mumbled, clearly somewhat annoyed with the way the conversation was progressing. "Can't say I'm happy about it, but this is going to make things a whole lot harder for a lot of people not that he's dead."

"I'm curious, Miss Tonks," he said, turning to give her his full attention. "Why is it that this 'Weasley' kid is the substitute Minister when you've got a whole list of Wizengamot members, Department Heads, or Aurors who would probably be better at the job? This kid must be barely old enough to have learned to shave and he's already the leader of your nation? I'd imagine he'd be really clueless with how things are run in the Ministry."

Tonks was looking at Darius with a curious gaze before her eyes suddenly widened in realization. "You're not from Great Britain, are you? That's why you sound so funny, isn't it?"

"Guilty as charged, Your Honor," Darius answered, chuckling and sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm a born and bred American. I kinda got caught here when the shit hit the fan and can't leave yet because your Ministry hasn't reopened international travel yet."

"That's too bad, mate," Tonks replied, giving him a pitying smile. "But to answer your question, I guess you could say that Weasley is frankly the next in line to become Minister now that Fudge is dead. Merlin help us if he's allowed to _stay_ as Minister though! The little prat's head'll probably swell ten times as much as it already is."

"I take it you know the kid," Darius said, dryly. Turning to look over at the construction that was taking place further up High Street, he absentmindedly asked, "How much longer do you think this new Ministry building is going to take before it opens for business? I really wanna get home to visit my family."

Nodding, Tonks too looked at the large building that being hastily assembled. The building was simply _massive_. So large that it actually had to be built on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. There was already an outer defensive wall that reached easily ten meters tall, a practical feature that spoke loudly of its medieval design origins and architecture. Towering well over the massive outer wall, various floor levels were visible and in different stages of completion. They currently reached as tall as ten stories and were promising to get even higher in some areas.

Though she didn't know the exact designs that were being used, Tonks did know that this new Ministry was being built in the shape of a heptagon (a seven-sided building), with one side to be used by one of the major Departments of the Ministry. And if her suspicions were right, the Minister's office was going to be located on a high tower in the center of the construct, overlooking the entire castle and Hogsmeade.

"Well, I heard that construction is going really well," she ventured. "I'd guess that it'll be open by the end of the coming week. I pray that it is because I can't stand working with a Three Broomsticks' room for an office!"

"But you're an Auror, aren't you?" Darius asked, gazing pointedly at her badge. "I'd think you wouldn't have been spending too much time indoors lately."

"You'd be surprised," Tonks muttered darkly as she took a long swallow of her drink.

Looking back towards the Ministry building, Darius chuckled quietly to himself as he noticed something. Seeing that he'd unintentionally gotten the Auror's attention, he nodded towards the building as he said, "Your new Ministry building reminds me somewhat of the US' Pentagon, our military headquarters."

"How so?" Tonks asked, genuinely curious.

"Because it's in the shape of a large pentagon, hence the name," Darius said, smirking at her confused expression. His smirk widened slightly as he watched her comprehension wash over her face. "Let's not hope your new Ministry is not named the 'Heptagon' or something."

Downing the last of his coffee, Darius stood and moved to leave. "Well, it was nice speaking with you, Miss Tonks."

Tonks just tossed him a halfhearted farewell in response.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**10:00am  
Gloucestershire, near Tetbury**

The countryside was remarkable. Harry would happily admit that he rather liked it here. The hills were gently slopped, grassy, and with an occasional stone wall or fence to divide it up into pastures and property lines. It was very different from the suburbs of Surrey from which he'd grown up in. It was quiet and offered a type of surreal peacefulness that not even Hogwarts could mimic. If not for the overpowering smell of smoke and the dense black column that he could see and smell rising from just over the hill he was standing upon, Harry would've loved to have lived and grown up here.

He knew he shouldn't be doing what he was, but he couldn't stop himself. For the past ten minutes, he'd been hearing the hissing roar of a dragon. The black smoke column that was pluming up into the air was growing constantly larger. And his 'saving people thing' as Hermione had put it was rearing its ugly head and forcing him to continue climbing the hill to see what was happening.

As he crested the hill, he came to an abrupt halt as he took in the sight before him. It was town of respectable size. He could see people running to and fro on the streets, screaming and running for their lives. Cars, buildings, and trees alike were aflame, broken and smashed, and there was multiple areas in the street and ground that were littered with craters from gas explosions or collapsing sewer tunnels. If not for the dragon that was circling overhead, the town might've looked like something out of a World War II documentary in Harry's opinion.

In some part at the back of Harry's mind, he realized that the dragon attacking was a Welsh Green. The Green must've been a juvenile because it was only half the size of any dragon he'd ever seen, but it was still as large as an elephant (not counting the wings of course).

He knew he should turn around and leave. It would've been the smart thing to do. He knew he should've just left and let the dragon do as it wished. How could he, an untrained wizard with a sad history of always getting into trouble with things he shouldn't have bothered with, possibly stand a chance against even a juvenile dragon? He may have had some experience with dragons, but that experience was limited to transporting a baby Ridgeback in a crate to the top of a castle and taunting a chained Horntail hen by flying around it on a broom. His experience with fighting against unchained and deadly dragons was limited to practically zilch.

Yet he still found himself rushing down the hill towards the burning town, wand in hand.

"I must be a glutton for danger," Harry grumbled to himself. That wasn't the reason that he was running forward, he knew. He just couldn't leave those defenseless people to fend for themselves against a dragon. Not when he had the power to make a difference, even if that difference was only in saving one or two people from the flying lizard. It was the right thing to do.

Rushing into the town while heaving heavily for a breath in the smoke-choked air, Harry looked around for where the dragon had gone. It wasn't too hard to spot the Green as it swooped over the buildings suddenly dropped down onto the street several blocks ahead of him. Ducking to the side so that it wouldn't notice him, Harry watched the dragon as it began pacing towards what looked like a church that was at the end of the street ahead of it. Why was it heading that way?

Slipping his Invisibility Cloak on, Harry hurried forward as fast as his tired legs could carry him. Despite the situation he was in, Harry couldn't help but feel annoyance wash over him. He had always been a great runner when he was younger, thanks to Dudley, but now he was panting like a dog and he'd scarcely done anything yet! How was he this out of shape?

Shoving that thought aside, Harry came to an abrupt halt as he heard someone yelling for help. Turning, he was a man trapped in an upturned car that was wedged between several others and the stone wall of a building. With a fast glance at the dragon, Harry gestured towards the car. With a swish-flick, it was up and floating over the piled cars and towards a clearer area of the street. But the weight and size of the vehicle was considerable, Harry had to release the spell after only a few moments, dropping the car not-so-gently to the ground some five meters away from where it had been. Satisfied with a job well-done, Harry continued his earlier goal.

As he neared the dragon and the church it was ambling towards, Harry realized what it was doing. Even from over the burning of the buildings and the chaos that was gripping the rest of the town, Harry could hear the screams and shouts of many panicked people echoing through the walls and broken windows of the church. People must've taken refuge in the church, whether for divine protection or the solid and strong walls it had. But now they'd basically served themselves up on a silver platter for the dragon to dine on at its leisure.

Scowling deeply, Harry moved off to the side and quickly scanned the area. The church had a small graveyard that the dragon was now making its way across, smashing tombstones and trampling the lawn. There were several trees lining the edges of the graveyard. And the church itself must've been almost a hundred feet tall with large windows on the side. This open area would most definitely work to the dragon's favor. But he didn't have a choice anymore.

Gathering his courage, Harry prepared to fight for his and the people in the church's lives.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

**Church of St. Mary**

Arnold Ericson had never been more terrified in all of his fifty years than he was at that very moment. When the old air raid siren had suddenly started screaming after fifty years of disuse, everyone in Tetbury had responded in the same manner, looking around in confusion. But the reason for the alarm was quickly made obvious when a hissing roar announced the arrival of a fire-breathing monster.

Arnold had taken his wife and their granddaughter and fled into the nearest structure that might've been able to withstand the monster. But they weren't the only ones to seek refuge in the church and a literal stampede of people began forcing their way into the old church. While his wife, Wendy, was kneeling before the altar and praying with all her might for the mighty Lord to save them from one of Lucifer's escaped pets, Arnold was busy trying to calm his and Allison's nerves. But the young four-year-old was sobbing hysterically in her panic and none of Arnold's words could reach her, though he doubted she could even hear him over the din of the other people packed into the church.

Due to how tightly packed the church had become, Arnold and Allison had been unintentionally warded towards one of the large windows, giving them a clear view of the approaching monster. Allison's already loud voice rose several octaves when she and many others near them saw the drooling beast rear up and prepare to unleash an undoubtedly powerful blast of fiery death upon them. For his part, Arnold was too frozen in terror to even consider trying to move or cower below the window. And that was how Arnold was able to witness the miracle Wendy was frantically begging the Almighty for.

The ground below the beast's left hind leg suddenly exploded, knocking the dragon off balance and causing its massive flame attack to go horribly wide, missing the church altogether. As the beast quickly recovered, the din of panic within the church began to quiet down as confusion set in. The dragon turned and looked around, nostrils flaring as it tried to seek out what had caused whatever happened. Unexplainably, it seemed to narrow in on a certain portion of the graveyard it was in and launched a wall of flames in that area. One of the tombstones suddenly seemed to grow and expand far beyond its original size, blocking and parting the flames. Then the enlarged tombstone jumped out of the earth and went rocketing towards the dragon. But the dragon was surprisingly agile and dodged away from the massive marble slab.

By now, the church was as silent as it could get, people were whispering frantically, trying to understand what was happening. Others were as enraptured in the strange occurrences that were happening as Arnold and Allison had become.

Arnold watched as a strange, lightning-like beam of light shot forward from behind yet another of the tombstones. Yet the lightning just bounced off the dragon like a ball off a wall. But the lightning distracted the dragon for the barest of seconds, watching it go flyig skywards before turning its attention back to where it had been attacked from. But during that split second, Arnold noticed something strange happening to the ground at its feet. Somehow it changed from the grass and dirt into something else. The dragon didn't seem to notice this however because it was still recovering from its dodge of the first tombstone. Thus, the beast stepped right into the changed earth, its foot and massive talons sunk a surprising distance into the stuff and then froze, as though the stuff had suddenly hardened.

Dragon let out a roar of rage as it realized what had happened to it. It tried prying itself out of the gunk but didn't seem able to. It was almost like its foot had suddenly been trapped within cement. Looking back in the direction that the strange occurrences were happening, the dragon blasted a large and powerful fireball. The fireball encompassed a large area before it suddenly and violently exploded, kicking up dirt, ashes, rocks, and tombstones alike.

Amid the flames and debris, Arnold witnessed a small figure seemingly peel itself out of thin air as it too went flying through the air. It landed heavily on its back and went into a tumbling roll. Upon finally spotting its tormentor, the dragon hissed furiously and fired off another fireball towards it. Surprisingly to Arnold, the figure recovered quickly as was able make a flying leap away from the fireball.

Landing a roll, the figure spun around and waved something long and thin towards the dragon. A bright flash of light shot from whatever it was holding and hit the ground to the side of the dragon, which caused it to erupt into a specular explosion. But the dragon didn't seem bothered by it. In response, it sent a wave of flames at the person. But the figure wasn't deterred; it dodged away from the fire by ducking behind yet another tombstone. After a moment's pause, the tombstone it was hiding behind suddenly expanded and shot towards the dragon. Unable to dodge, the dragon had to confront the large boulder and heave it aside with its own considerable body strength.

As it was doing this, the person rushed off to the side and started circling around the beast. As it was doing this, the person as chanting something in a language Arnold didn't know and waving its tool around erratically. As if in response to this, the area around the dragon's feet was quickly transformed into the same sticky substance, patch by patch, as the first trap. Inevitably, the dragon's remaining feet started getting caught in it as it tried shifting around to reach the nimble figure dancing around it.

After only a few minutes of this, the dragon had become well and truly trapped in the muck at its feet. The person, now standing safely behind it and well out of the dragon's tail range, flicked whatever it was holding. Heavy chains shot out of the tip and flew through the air, encircling and quickly tightening down on the dragon, pinning its massive wings against its torso and clamping its maw shut.

Now that it wasn't running and fighting, Arnold's slowly failing eyesight could finally make out some distinguishing features about the boy. And a boy it most certainly was, probably not even fifteen or sixteen years old yet! He had shockingly bright red hair and green eyes with glasses, which were only visible because the hood of his ragged black cloak had fallen back during the fighting. The strange thing that he was using to shoot chains and light out of was some kind of little brown stick or rod some kind. Though he wasn't tall by any means, his shoulders were hunched and his chest was heaving badly, like it was taking all he had just to continue standing upright.

Watching the dragon wearily, the boy raised its little stick up to its throat and muttered something. When he lowered it, the boy's voice was suddenly thousands of times louder than was humanly possible. "_Everyone, get out of the church and run for it! I can stall the dragon, but it'll break free in only a __**few minutes!**__ Please, __**run for it!**_" The exhaustion was obvious in the boy's voice, leaving no doubt in anyone's minds that the boy was telling the truth.

"Pakka," Allison said in a quiet voice that Arnold barely heard over the renewed din as the citizens of Tetbury rushed to heed the boy's advice. "Who is that?"

"Someone who is either very foolish or very, _very_ brave," Arnold answered in a hesitant voice.

Harry Potter – Reign of Fire

He wasn't sure how he had managed it, but Harry had somehow come up with that scheme to trap the dragon on the fly. And now he had to forcefully concentrate with all his might to keep his spells at full power so that they could proper bind and hinder the dragon while the people escaped. Thankfully, the people believed him when he said that he couldn't hold it for long, especially because he was so tired. They were now racing out of the church and down the streets as quickly as their panic-infused muscles could carry them. Harry knew he was receiving more than just a dozen stares or two from the crowd as he continued facing the dragon with his wand level and ready. But he tried not thinking about it. If he did, he knew he'd start berating himself at the stupidity of his actions here.

A deep growl of foreboding rage from the dragon rapidly drew Harry's attention. Despite being chained and cemented to the ground, the dragon had raised its head and was glaring its blazing blue eyes at him as though it felt that it could suddenly develop basilisk death glare powers and kill him with a glance. But because it was staring at him, Harry noticed some small but curious things about it that he hadn't had time to see or care about earlier.

The pupils of its eyes were enlarged to several sizes that he was sure was too big to be normal. And though there was a clear and obvious intelligence within those sapphires, it was heavily tainted by overwhelming rage and hunger. Though he'd never actually seen a Welsh Green up close, he could easily tell that the scales of its hide were just a little to roughed up (like it had been scratching itself relentlessly) and the scales' colors seemed too dull to be considered healthy. Plus there seemed to be gallons of drool leaking out from the gaps of its clenched jaw and lips. Were those perhaps some symptoms of that Mad Cow's Disease that the dragons had gotten?

"What am I gonna do with you?" Harry asked himself quietly as he quickly glanced around to make sure he was alone. For the most part he was, but it seemed that some people had decided to linger behind to see what he would do now. Dammit, because they'd stayed, he just couldn't release the dragon and try to hide under his Invisibility Cloak. But he doubted that would've worked anyway since the dragon was probably gonna come after him when it broke free.

"Guess there's only one choice now," he muttered to himself. Flicking his wand off to the side, he summoned one of the enlarged tombstones and floated it above the dragon's head. "Sorry about this," he said to the dragon, feeling honestly apologetic as he dropped the large stone upon its head and knocked the dragon unconscious.

Finally relaxing his hold on his various spells that were pinning the dragon, Harry collapsed to the ground and panted heavily. Panting loudly, he barely had the strength to groan out, "I…hate…fighting…dragons… Why…couldn't…it have…been…hippo…griffs…that wanted…to take…over the…world?"

"What's a 'hippogriff', boy?" an unfamiliar voice asked from somewhere nearby.

"I thought…I told you…to run away…" Harry groaned out, not even able to open his eyes to see who he was speaking to. But he could easily guess that it was an elderly man.

"Pakka, who is this?" a young girl voice asked. "How did he do that?"

"I don't know, Allison dear," the man (Pakka?) answered. "Who are you, boy?"

"Why…do…you…" Harry started to ask.

"We just wanted to know the name of our savior, lad," an elderly woman said as she walked up to stand beside the first two.

"Savior…" Harry repeated slowly. Despite himself and his exhaustion, he found himself chuckling weakly at the irony of that word. "So…I'm a…savior…again."

"And what were you before now?" the man asked, both curious and rather cautious.

Rather than answer, Harry just chuckled. He was too tired to care anymore. He could feel the darkness creeping in around him and he couldn't help but submit to it, despite himself being surrounded by Muggles who desired answers and a juvenile dragon who could regain consciousness at any moment. But he was just didn't care at the moment, he slipped unconscious.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) That was a long-coming chapter. Harry vs. Dragon was something I'd wanted to do from day one of this story. How was it? I didn't want to turn Harry into some kind of super wizard and show just how limited he was at the moment. Oh, for those interested non-Britains, Tetbury is an actual town, as is the church.

I had originally intended to include a battle between the Royal military and the dragon that's taking place in Tetbury as a way of showing the differences between Muggles vs. Dragons and Wizards vs. Dragons. I obviously decided that it was a largely unnecessary scene for what I had wanted. But if any of you would like me to add that scene in later, just say so.

Now, _truthfully_, how many of you saw _Percy Weasley_ becoming the new (temporary?) Minister coming? Not many, I'm sure! ;P

I'm opening a new poll on my profile for the next chapter. I would greatly appreciate all who read this story to take a look at it. Because I've reached an impasse for what I could do in the next chapter and what happens has the potential to drastically alter what happens in the future of the story.


	7. Fiery Tempers

**The Outlaw  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 7—Fiery Tempers_

**July 9, 1996  
Tuesday, 10:22pm  
Cotswold Hills, Gloucestershire**

Opening the door to his motorhome, Darius let out a long, suffering sigh. He so very much _despised_ all forms of ancient magical transportation. And the fact that he needed to use a Portkey just to enter Hogsmeade so he could scope out the situation didn't help his mood in the least. Why did those bluebloods need to be so hung up in tradition and the long-past Golden Years of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which were better known as the Dark Ages?

Portkeys seemed to have been created for the _specific_ purpose of disorienting a person by the immeasurably fast speeds they were spun at, always making Darius sick to his stomach with motion sickness. The Floo always, _without_ _fail_, got him covered in ridiculous amounts of soot and sent him careening the ground upon arrival. And Apparation…he shuddered violently just at the mere _thought_ of it! Thank goodness he didn't have to use any of those all that often, or he'd have gone pure Mundane long ago.

"Hey, Potter," he called out as he moved to the fridge, fishing out a Bud Light. Beer always helped him recover and settle down a bit faster after taking Portkeys. "I've got some news you won't like to hear."

He waited a moment, but received no answer in reply. Trying again, with a louder voice, he yelled, "Potter?" And still got no answer.

'_Great, he must've gone out again, damn kid_,' he grumbled to himself. It was more that he was irritated at the world in general than any spitefulness towards the quiet boy that had him grumbling. Finishing off the beer quickly, he ambled up to the driver's seat, reaching into the glove box and extracting a small mirror. Placing the mirror flat on the table behind him, he touched a pair of symbols on its edge as he clearly stated, "Show me Harry Potter."

The Scrying Mirror was a very useful tool. Once it was held by a person, whether willingly or not, it would be able to locate and show the person's location on a map and what the person's physical condition was. And, if the person was close enough, it could even show a five-second image of what the person was doing when the handler used the mirror. Of course, there were ways to fool the Mirror, the most commonly known being the Fidelius Charm.

The Scrying Mirror lit up with a blinding flash of light for a moment. Then, as the light faded, a holographic-like image of a map of the surrounding lands appeared. In the center of the map was the motorhome, which Darius recognized easily despite the bird's-eye-view. Off maybe a mile or two to the west, in the middle of a small town that the Scrying Mirror labeled 'Tetbury' was a small green icon indicating Harry. Also, because of the realistic image that the Mirror was giving, Darius could see that most of the town was in ruins, flames and black smoke pluming out of it, hordes of people fleeing it on foot or in vehicles.

"What the hell is he doing there?" Darius demanded aloud. Tapping another set of symbols, the image shifted to show Harry. And what he saw immediately had Darius jumping to his feet and rushing for his room and the awaiting stores of weaponry. "This is not good!"

* * *

**Wizengamot, Ministry Building  
10:30am**

The meeting had just begun and already there was nothing but minor bickering and bad news being shared among the wizards and witches. The meeting consisted of the remaining members of the Wizengamot, a reporter or two who'd be chronicling the discussion for the new wizarding newspaper (the _Daily Seer_) which had opened two days prior, a number of aides for the Wizengamot members, and of course the new Minister of Magic.

Despite himself and the circumstances, Percy Weasley felt a sense of absolute and unbridled joy welling up inside his chest as he watched over the meeting of the most powerful magical country's most influential bureaucrats. A joy that had momentarily threatened to break loose of his control and put a large sneering grin on his face, which would not have been appropriate in this time or setting. With his well-known self-control, Percy suppressed both his desire to grin at his own success and get himself to pay attention to the various discussions and arguments taking place.

This had been Percy's dream since he was a mere seven-year-old child taken to a Wizengamot assembling by his father for some minor discussion that needing closure at the time. Ever since that day, oh-so-long ago, Percy had made it his life's goal to become the next Minister of Magic. But not even in his wildest dreams did he ever truly believe that he would—or even _could_—accomplish that dream so early in his life. Sadly, the payment of having his 'secret' desire fulfilled was the loss of his mentor and idol, Minister Fudge.

Percy sat in a large, throne-like chair at the front of the large chamber. The chamber itself would've been best compared to an amphitheater. There was a raised dais upon which Percy, his two aides, and an Auror hiding in the shadows were located. In front of them were curving rows of seats where the Wizengamot sat. As was traditional, the most influential members were granted seats of privilege up near the front and closest to the Minister's ear. The rest were ranked accordingly as followed with the lesser members being seated ever higher up, near the top. And the journalists and reporters lined the sides of the chamber, quietly taking notes, pictures, and sharing their own opinions with one another.

It was the first meeting of the Wizengamot since the Great Disaster, as the _Seer_ was calling the destruction of the previous Ministry building and following escape of the dragons. The meeting itself had started out civil enough, with various Department Heads explaining the current state of affairs and problems that their people were experiencing. But when the issue of the rapidly declining amount of government funds that were available were brought up and which departments were in most demand of more resources, that was when the fighting and arguing began. It went without saying that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be receiving a considerable amount to assist them in maintaining peace and order in Hogsmeade and wherever else they were needed. And as such, that Department, now headed by Pius Thicknesse, was actually keeping out of the arguing and fittingly trying to play the role of peacekeeper. But it was all of the others that were causing the needless bickering of who deserved more money and why or why not.

'_This is sickening_,' Percy thought with great disgust as he watched the controlled pandemonium take place. '_The leaders of the Ministry, meant to watch over and govern the people, reduced to __**this**__. All because of that damn Potter brat_.' It was naïve of him to think that, he knew. But he needed someone to blame all this on, if only to keep him disconnected and from joining in the bickering.

"That is enough!" he yelled, using his wand to throw up a shower of sparks over the assembly. The magic and his voice helped to curb the arguments very quickly, some of which were nearing to the point of violence. Seeing that he'd once again regained control of the Wizengamot, Percy turned to Dirk Cresswell, "Mr. Cresswell, you speak for the gold. Tell me, what is to be done—within reason—of our _existing_ budget?"

"Minister," Cresswell said, nodding in respect as he stood up from his seat to be seen and heard by all. As the Goblin Liaison, it of course fell to Cresswell to keep as accurate a log of all Ministry expenses as possible. "I am afraid that there is not much to be done. The evacuation, relocation, and construction of the Ministry were extremely costly ventures. The Goblins are demanding obscene taxes for them to dig a tunnel to the vaults so they can transport and relocate the vaults' contents. And finally, the expected payments for all of the employees working overtime since the Great Disaster are going to be entire fortunes unto themselves."

"What does that mean to _me_, Mr. Cresswell?" Percy demanded irritably. He was not in the mood for fancy words and long speeches.

"…The Ministry has become bankrupt and will remain so for quite some time until the needed taxes and loans have been paid off," Cresswell explained. He, like all the others in the Wizengamot had noted Percy's ire quite quickly. And it was a well-documented fact that an irate Minister was never a good thing. "We can buy time, or rather borrow for it. The most viable option open is to ask for loans from the other magical Ministries or benefactors. There are available strongboxes of gold from Sicily to Norway if you know where to look."

"The _last thing_ this Ministry needs is to open an outstanding debt to some other country," one of the Wizengamot loudly declared from the crowd. "We are _above_ such methods to plead to _foreign_ Mudbloods for gold."

"_We_ may be," Cresswell answered quickly before anyone else could speak up. "But our treasury is _not_." Turning his attention back to Percy, he nodded submissively as he said, "That is a fact, Minister."

Percy merely beckoned him to return to his seat now that he'd spoken his piece. Despite himself, Percy let out a tiny sigh of relief that Cresswell had not called him by his family name. Right now, with his parents and siblings being such fools and bigots, the last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his bad fortune of being borne from such an estranged lot. Well, he'd certainly had _that_ taken care of already. All he needed was the grand introduction before he could put it to use.

Facing the Wizengamot, he asked, "What is the situation for the people?"

This time Department Head Thicknesse stood up. "I have confirmed reports of no less than twenty families' homes being overrun, burned, or otherwise compromised by the dragons, looting bandits, Dark wizards, Magical Creatures, and even Muggles; all from the London area or southern England and Wales. Many families and, especially, the children have already repeatedly broken the Statute of Secrecy by doing magic blatantly in front of Muggles in the aforementioned areas. Dark Creatures run rampart through the towns and villages, particularly the werewolves in Wales. Food has become a scarce commodity due to the Muggle factories and roads being attacked and destroyed by dragons. Thousands of suburban survivors have fled to the countryside, I've heard countless reports of riots and violence taking place everywhere and—"

"_I __**don't**__**care**__ about the __**Muggles**__!_" Percy interrupted, his yelling cutting off Thicknesse easily. "_Our_ worries are with _our_ folk! We'll leave the Muggles to clean up their own messes for now!"

"Sir?" Thicknesse asked, cocking his head to the side slightly in confusion. Maybe it was his imagination, but Minister Weasley's last sentence…seemed odd.

"What has happened to the families who had to flee?" Percy demanded, visibly recollecting himself before he lost his composure and let something slip unintentionally. He wasn't ready to unveil his first act as Minister just yet.

"We have placed the ones we could find in temporary rooms in The Three Broomsticks," Pius answered quickly, still eyeing the young Minister suspiciously as were a fair number of the other members.

"They can take care themselves," Amos Diggory grumbled loudly. "Let us focus on more pressing issues, like our own stores of food." There was a quiet mumbling of general agreement amongst the gathered wizards and witches to that statement.

"How many remaining supplies do we have?" Percy asked, his demeanor once again calm and calculating.

Thicknesse sat down as another wizard stood up in his place. "We have enough food set aside to feed our people for a whole month. But the stores would last longer if we placed a ration limit on it, three months at most. After that, we'll have to start cooperating with the Muggles to get some more grain, meats, and vegetables."

"And with our already stressed budget," Cresswell spoke up momentarily. "That will dry up whatever we'd managed to save or regain by that point."

"If we have to _purchase_ them…" someone pointed out anonymously.

Despite his best efforts, a small grin spread across Percy's face as he heard that. It was the perfect opening he needed to begin introducing his plans to the Wizengamot. Because it was so small, none the assembled wizards or witches noticed his expression in time to wonder about it.

"And that is precisely why we're _not_ going to," Percy announced loudly, cutting off what little chatter had developed from that last statement.

"What do you have in mind…Minister?" Tiberius Ogden asked, an old supporter of Dumbledore who'd recently reclaimed his seat to aid in the Disaster efforts as best he could. For him, it was very hard to accept that the new Minister of Magic, arguably the most powerful individual of the _greatest_ magical community of the Wizarding World, was not but a mere boy who'd likely only just learned to _shave_!

Seeing that he'd suitably gotten the attentions of the entire chamber, Percy put on a serious expression to better convey his conviction in what he knew would be a greatly controversial decision. Waving his wand, he sent a copy of documents flying from the desk of one of aides to each member of the Wizengamot, and even a few to the gathered journalists and reporters. "As the Minister of Magic, I am hereby repealing the Statute of Secrecy and commencing the Decree of Free Magical Usage, effective immediately."

There was a near immediate roar of voices as the Wizengamot erupted into a din of disapproving shouts. Not even the reporters were unaffected, many had begun making notes instantly, their Quick-Quotes Quills racing across their parchments like frantic dancers, positively eating up this new development. Percy allowed the din of disapproval to occur, having fully expected it and knowing that they'd be easier to coerce once they'd gotten their first responses fully voiced, even if no else but their neighbors could hear them.

After several minutes, Percy's patience was worn out and he sent another shower of sparks flying, slowly bringing the rebelling council back into general silence.

"We _cannot_ break the Statute!" a witch yelled angrily. "We are _not_ prepared to handle the consequences!"

"The ICW will _never_ condone this and we will _all_ be imprisoned for facilitating it!"

"And the public response, both Muggle and Magical, will _most likely_ eventually lead to _bloodshed and violence!_ It has always been the Statute and our strict enforcement of it that has kept our lands in order and safe for centuries."

"_**SILENCE!**_" Percy yelled, his voice carrying as though it had been enhanced by a Sonorus. "In case you all have _forgotten_, one of the _key features_ of the Statute of Secrecy is 'the _concealment_, care, and _control_ of all Magical Creatures,' _including most especially __**dragons!**_" _That_ brought an immediate silence to the naysayers. "And, as Mr. Thicknesse has stated, numerous wizards and witches have _already_ or _should've_ broken the Statute, whether to fight the dragons from destroying their homes or to protect their families from the Muggles, whom we've long allowed to overrun our lands!"

Though he didn't know it at the time, Percy had just struck a very sensitive but well-concealed cord in many of the gathered wizards and witches. It had nothing to do with their beliefs of right and wrong, blood status, or even society as a whole. It was their pride. Like a long, festering wound, the Statute of Secrecy had been both a burden and gift to the magical folk. It kept them safe since it forced them to restrain themselves, but it also restricted their ability to keep or protect that which they thought of as theirs, and usually from the ever-growing population of Muggles. Over the centuries, the Muggles had slowly but steadily chipped away at the Wizards' property lines and even run them off their ancestral lands completely in some cases. That was a painful sting to their prides. And, to a wizard, there was nothing that mattered more than their pride, not even their own lives in some cases.

Continuing on forcefully with his well-rehearsed speech, Percy said, "The Statute of Secrecy has been little more than an agreement made in a long ago past by a group of wizards and witches who were too fearful and too greedy to do what needed to be done to keep order and safety in society. The Statute has been a burden ever since. And with the chaos that the dragons have been creating since their escape, to not use _all_ of our resources to aid us would be a damning mistake to us as a governing body and a people. It is a mistake that I _will not_ condone!"

Seeing several nods of agreement from various members, most notably the most _influential_ of the purest families, Percy let a small smile grace his lips for a split second in satisfaction. But he suppressed it quickly thereafter. "The days of Wizards hiding in the shadows are _over!_ _They are __**over!**_ From now on, we will rule these lands as we should've long ago."

"So you wish to turn Great Britain into a true magical country?" Madam Edgecomb, Percy's Undersecretary, spoke up, asking the question that was on the minds of all present. "To seize total control of this land will not be possible for us quite some time. We are stretched far too thinly, Minister."

"That is entirely true, Madam Edgecomb," Percy agreed, nodding towards the woman. "This is why we will expand our borders slowly. We will first take control of all the major cities, factories, and farms of Scotland. We will be the overlords of the Muggles, governing and taxing them. And with the crisis of the dragons, they are far too disorganized and scrambling to combat them and protecting themselves from infighting to be of any real threat to us."

"You are implying that we begin a hostile invasion of the Muggle World, sir," Thicknesse pointed out, his eyes narrowed slightly at the idea. "Even if we had the manpower to do so, we Aurors are keepers of the peace, not soldiers. And I know for a fact that there certainly aren't enough Hitwizards to do the job either, not even discreetly."

This time Percy didn't even try to restrain the grin that broke across his face. "That is true. And you are currently quite busy with many other affairs at present as well, which is why this job shall not be yours." That brought quite a few murmurs of confusion and suspicion across the gathered wizards.

Using his wand once again, Percy sent another group of pamphlets flying over to his audience as he continued his speech. "As you may or may not know, I was the one to document and process Minister Fudge's plans for rebuilding and strengthening the Ministry before his death. And in those plans, I came across a very intriguing proposition. To create a new branch of law enforcement, one that would wield above-the-law powers to hunt down and capture or execute known or suspected criminals, dissidents, and Undesirables who were seeking to control or disrupt the Ministry."

"Is that not what the Aurors are for?" someone asked in confusion.

"Of course," Percy answered, frowning. "And they have proven themselves to be _quite brilliant_ at their jobs." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone. "They have allowed corruption to spawn uncontrollably throughout all levels in the Ministry, were unable to locate or stop You-Know-Who during the early days of his rise to power, and have been unable to find the _one_ little _half-trained_ wizard who was responsible for the destruction of the Ministry in the _first place!_ Not to mention, the numerous incidents which have occurred at Hogwarts in recent years."

Thicknesse was glaring quite heatedly at Percy for each insult to his Department, but otherwise kept himself quiet. The sad fact of the matter was that the boy-leader was telling the complete and honest truth.

"Due to the Aurors' incompetence, I have already created and enlisted various wizards and witches into this new department," Percy declared, pride quite evident in his voice and stature, which only increased as he saw more than a few of the Wizengamot shift in surprise or unease.

"Why have we not been informed of this beforehand?" Thicknesse asked, voicing the one question they all shared.

"Because this new department, the Black Watch, answers _only_ to the Minister of Magic," Percy announced, raising his chin conceitedly. "Thus they have had no reason to interfere with any of your operations, unless you'd been attempting to harm or hinder the Ministry in some way or performing illegal activities."

"Black Watch?" Tiberius repeated. What kind of name was that?

"Yes, their primary directive is the surveillance, arrest, and imprisonment of the undesirable elements that hide in the darkness or have dark intentions," Percy said. "Thus they are the Black Watch. And they have already begun their assignment."

"What have they done?" Thicknesse demanded, standing in protest that his Department was apparently being replaced.

"They have already arrested a group of known conspirators that have worked alongside Albus Dumbledore and have supported his and the Potter boy's claims that You-Know-Who has returned," Percy announced quite proudly. "The conspirators' goal had been the spread of misinformation in order to instill fear and generate panic within the public. They have since been sent to Azkaban and are no longer of any consequence."

Despite the achievement, he forced himself to ignore the fact that they had arrested members of his own family just to acquire the list of conspirators in the first place. But then, he reminded himself, his parents and brothers had brought that upon themselves by not accepting the truth that the Dark Lord had _not_ returned, as Minister Fudge had already proven.

"You can do that!" Thicknesse and several others shouted and/or stood in defiance. "To be sent to Azkaban without a trial is—"

"_I can do it all I wish!_" Percy interrupted heatedly, his glare cold enough to freeze liquid nitrogen. "_**Because I am the **__**MINISTER OF MAGIC!**_"

* * *

**Tetbury**

Consciousness came slowly to him. And with his returning awareness, the throbbing agony of a powerful migraine in his skull became painfully real to him. Groaning softly, he slid his hands up to rub his aching head. But by doing so, he became aware of two more things. The first being that he was laying upon a hard stone floor littered with dust and pebbles. The second thing being that his fingers encountered something damp and slightly sticky that was drying into a crust in his hair.

Painfully opening his eyes, he stared dumbly down at his red-colored fingers. That crusty red stuff looked an awful lot like…blood?

"Hey, Jack!" a loud voice called from somewhere behind him. "The freak's awake!"

As he was slowly pushing himself up, a screeching sound behind him announced the opening of a door. This was followed shortly by a rough pair of hands grabbing his shirt and bodily picking him before slamming him up against the hard wall. His throbbing head banging up against the unforgiving wall proved more than sufficient at knocking Harry's mind back up to full awareness.

The first thing he saw and fully comprehended was the young man in front of him who'd likely been the one to pick him up. The first thought that went through his mind was that this guy was probably related to Marcus Flint. He shared a rather striking resemblance with the former Slytherin Quidditch Captain, big, burly, and absolutely brutish.

The young man, seeing that he'd gotten Harry awake, dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and stepped to the side. Cradling his even more fiercely throbbing head, Harry looked up and glared at the man before his attention was attracted to where he actually was. Unless he was very much mistaken, Harry could've sworn that he seemed to be inside the jail cell of a police station, if the bars at the front and sides of the cell were any indication. There was a simple cot with a small mattress, a sink, and a loo in the cell, but nothing else.

There also seemed to be four or five other tough guys like 'Flint' standing outside the cell, all glaring or sneering at him in ways that would've made even Draco nod in pride. And, much to Harry's surprise, unease, and confusion, all of them were armed with guns and knives. Each wore some kind of vest over their clothing, and the vest had a gaudy laughing skull painted boldly across the front. To Harry's untrained eye, it looked like they'd looted the police station of weapons and armor. That just raised more questions, none of which Harry was sure he'd like the answers to.

"Well, well, well," a drawling voice spoke from outside the cell and Harry's line-of-sight. "The mighty Dragon Slayer awakens."

Then the speaker moved into Harry's sight. He was, like the other toughs that Harry had seen so far, a burly, young man. There was a clear amount of muscle visible on him under his sleeveless shirt and black jeans, suggesting long hours in the gym. His eyes, unlike the others, weren't beady or glaring, ready to attack at a moment's notice. There was a definitely look of cunning in them, not unlike a lot of the Slytherins Harry knew of. But Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the small instrument that the gang leader was idly fiddling with in his hands.

He had Harry's wand!

"Oh, I see you've already noticed your toy, little boy," the thug said. Though there was not a hint of malice in his voice, it still set Harry's heckles rising. This guy was dangerous, and _he had his __**wand! **_Come to think of it, where was his Invisibility Cloak? What had happened after he'd fallen unconscious?

"What's going on?" Harry asked cautiously, knowing full well that he was not the one in control here. "Who are you people? Where am I? What have you done with my things?"

"You certainly have a lot of questions," the thug sneered, not ceasing his fiddling with Harry's wand. Then the thug's face hardened as the sneer vanished. Jabbing Harry's wand forward as though he were trying to use magic, the thug's face darkened considerably when he saw that nothing had happened. "What is this thing, freak?"

"Not yours," Harry said plainly. Despite himself, the situation he was in, and his own ignorance of wandlore, Harry felt fairly confident in his knowledge of magic to continue. "You can try to use it all you like, but it will never work for someone who isn't its owner. I doubt it would ever willingly harm its owner, even if you _could_ use it properly."

"You doubt?" the thug repeated, his sneer returning full force. "Meaning, you don't _know_ for certain. Meaning, you just _lied_ to me. And I _hate_ liars. Riley?"

Harry barely had enough to piece together what the thug just said before 'Flint' grabbed him and delivered a crushing punch to his face. Harry let out a cry of agony as he felt his nose break and start to bleed, his head and body reeling from the unexpected blow. Before he could collect himself, he was suddenly grabbed by his shirt and yanked forward, right into a rising knee, knocking the air from his lungs and causing him to collapse from the pain. If he'd been able to, Harry would've seen 'Flint' about to kick him in the back but was stopped by a raised hand from the leader. Thus allowing Harry a brief chance to gasp air back into his lungs and cradling his throbbing new injuries.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let's begin," the leader said, taking a seat in a chair that one of the other thugs brought forward. "You are going to tell me how to make this thing work. You are going to tell me how to kill those dragons. And you're going to tell me where I can find more 'interesting items' like this and that pretty cloak you had." Harry couldn't stop the flinch at the mention of his missing Invisibility Cloak. So they _did_ have it after all! "And you're going to tell me the truth or my boys will be more than happy to cut you up into tiny little pieces."

Having regained enough air and strength to fight back the throbbing pain, Harry looked up with anger at his captors. Each of the thugs present toyed with the exposed hilts of various knives and daggers that adorned their clothing. It was an intimidation tactic, Harry rationalized. One that was sadly working since he knew he was defenseless, as did they.

"How does this work?" the thug demanded loudly when he saw Harry was not inclined to answer.

"I don't know," Harry answered, knowing the guy wasn't going to react well. A frowning glare and a sharp kick to the back of his head, which knocked him roughly face-first into the floor again followed quickly.

"Alright, let's try this again," the thug leader said, leaning forward slightly in the chair. "Where did you get this?"

"London," Harry answered again. He was grinning despite the pain and blood that were coating his face. Harry stared up at the fuzzy image of the thug before him. He really wished he had his glasses, or not been cursed with near-sight, because he would've really liked to have seen the expression of growing anger in the bully's face more clearly. If he was doomed to be assaulted for just breathing by these bigot bullies, then he'd do it in style! "I'm sure a man of your…_stature_ and _disposition_ could talk his way into it."

This time, the attack caught him in the ribs, collapsing his chest as the air rushed from his lungs again in a pained exhale.

"You think this some kind of joke?" the leader asked in a dangerous tone that Harry heard far too often. Looking up as he heard the leader's clothing shift as he stood up, he watched blearily as the thug grasped the wand in both hands.

"No, wait!" Harry cried out, fighting to force his body to regain its lost strength so that he could jump up and stop what he knew was going to happen. "Don't do it!"

His tormentor once again made himself known, stamping down quite savagely upon Harry's back and knocking him bodily back to the ground. Bracing himself, Harry tried to shove himself back up, but a sharp new pain jabbed into his right shoulder, poking out through the front. Harry didn't need to see the small spray of blood, feel the jabbing sting and throb of absolute agony, hear his own cry of pain and surprise from a seemingly great distance away, or see the tented extension under his shirt's collar to know that he'd just been stabbed by a knife. It may have as well been a sword for all the white-hot pain it caused him. The stab caused him to collapse upon the ground as his uninjured arm immediately moved to cradle his right shoulder and, futilely, try to remove the obstruction from his body.

Somehow finding the strength of will to look past his own pain, Harry turned his attention back to where his wand was in imminent danger. That wand was his dearest and closest possession. _Nothing_ else even came close to the love and fondness he held for his wand. And now, before his very eyes, knowing what was coming and being unable to do anything about it, a deep-seated emotion or power or…something began building up inside him. He _wanted_ to stop this. He _needed_ to stop this! _He __**had**__ to stop this!_ Pulling his blood-soaked hand from his shoulder, Harry reached for his wand, desperately clawing at the unchanging and unforgiving distance between him and it.

"Let's see you laugh _this_ off!" With a soft grunt and loud _snap_, Harry's wand was broke.

He…couldn't…stop…it. He…His wand…It was… No…No…! _NO!_

It was in that moment that something else _broke_… inside Harry.

* * *

**Ten minutes earlier…**

"Dammit!" Darius swore for umpteenth time, cursing his bad luck.

He had been driving his beloved black '87 Mustang at somewhat reckless speeds towards the town of Tetbury. Yet just as he was nearing it, he caught sight of a large roadblock, consisting of numerous cars and vehicles that the locals either dragged or towed into place, forming a surprisingly effective wall. If his guess was right, the townsfolk were preparing for the hordes of starving, homeless people who were fleeing the cities and the dragons. Food and property were already being savagely fought over as the owners tried to protect what was theirs and the newcomers tried to take what they needed to survive or just selfishly desired.

Though it was smart and practical of the townsfolk, it was extremely hindering to Darius. Especially given that he was in a hurry to save a young life before it was taken by the ignorant and violent youths he'd glimpsed. Darius had been forced to park his Mustang on the side of the road and run as fast as he could pace himself up to and over the automotive barricades.

Strangely there didn't seem to be any guards posted, a fact that had the African-American both grateful and weary. Sure, he'd seen in the Scrying Mirror that some of the townsfolk had been fleeing and given the burning and destruction, there must've been a dragon attacking. But surely some of the people would've tried to stay behind and protect their homes, right? Darius would admit that he didn't know much about the British and their laws, but they must've had _some_ weapons to help them fight…right?

He had made it a good distance into the town when he spotted a dragon he instantly recognized as a Welsh Green. The beast was chained up with its feet trapped in small areas of concrete and there was a discarded tombstone that was several sizes too large to be normal. This had 'Harry' written all over it and Darius quickly guessed that it was why Harry had come to the town in the first place. But these observations were all shelved when he saw something that had him quickly postponing his need to save Harry.

Right up next to the dragon, which had apparently regained consciousness, was a young woman who must've been in her early twenties at most. Under normal circumstances, he might've said that she was somewhat attractive. But it was what she was doing that had him rushing forward and reaching up to draw the massive broadsword he wore over his shoulder. The girl had a metal saw in her hands and was frantically cutting away at the chains that were binding the dragon's mouth.

"Don't worry, baby," the girl was cooing in a voice that most others would've used to soothe a baby. "Melanie is here. I'll make you feel all better in no time."

"Get away from it!" Darius yelled as he approached, already beginning to work his broadsword free of its sheath. The girl, Melanie, either blatantly ignored him or didn't hear him, she just continued sawing away at the chains.

She was almost done cutting it free. And once she managed to set it free, the dragon would be so happy that it'd want to become her friend! She had already decided that she'd name it Natasha, or Tess. Yes, Tess was nice sounding. Anyway, once they were friends, Tess would take her up flying and they'd explore the skies of the world together. She would become the very first Dragon Rider in history! Everyone would know her name and envy her for her greatness! And Tess too, of course. Oh, she could hardly wait for the bright future that was awaiting her just a few short cuts away!

With a metallic snap, helped along by Tess' strong jaw muscles, the chains around the dragon's snout came free. Immediately thereafter, Tess reared her head back and drew in a deep breath of air. Oh, Tess was gonna roar in happiness at finally being freed by her! Yay!

Then, Tess snapped her head downwards at high speeds. Melanie had just enough time to see the fiery crimson of flames glowing ominously in the back of Tess' maw when the world suddenly went into a chaotic spin, a wave of oppressive heat, and loud noises erupted from somewhere close by. After a moment to regain her bearings, Melanie looked up in confusion as she realized that she'd fallen to the ground somehow.

As she was climbing to her feet, she heard a loud shriek and a man's battle cry. Looking up just in time, she watched as a black man dressed in dark leather with a sword that was every bit as massive as he was delivering a powerful chop. The blade flashed downward in a blur of silver, hacking into and quickly separating Tess' head from her body. As the dragon's body collapsed lifelessly to the ground, Melanie stared with horror-stricken eyes as her dreams died along with it.

Jumping to her feet as the murderer pulled his butcher's knife back, Melanie ran up to the man in a blind rage. Then stranger only had enough time to hear her approach and turn to face her when her hand snapped forward, a resounding slap echoed through the graveyard of the church as the man's head was snapped to the side. As she was winding up for another slap, the man stepped back and held up his massive sword in a threatening yet defensive pose.

"_YOU __**ASSHOLE**__!_" Melanie screamed at the top of her _massive_ lung capacity. "_DO YOU HAVE __**ANY IDEA**__ WHAT YOU JUST __**DID**__?_"

"Yeah," the black man answered heatedly as he turned his own glare on the stupid bitch before him. "Just saved your ungrateful hide from being barbequed, stupid bitch."

"Tess wasn't gonna attack me!" Melanie hollered in rage, her arms shaking from the potent desire to pummel the man to a bloody pulp. "She was just about to thank me for helping her get free from the bad boy's trap!"

"It was about to incinerate your scrawny ass, dumbass," Darius argued, glaring hatefully. Normally, he considered himself above such petty arguments, but this…lunatic's voice, reasoning (if you could call it that), and self-righteous attitude were drawing him in like a sponge soaking up water. With just a few words, he could already tell that this…girl… had a very domineering and confrontational personality, one that was apparently used to living in her own world and getting her own way, no matter the cost to everyone else around her. He hated people like this with a passion.

Forcing himself to calm down, he turned away and slid his broadsword back into its sheath. '_I still have to save Harry_,' he reminded himself. '_Even if this girl is mentally retarded, that Green needed to be put down anyway. So there's no point in arguing anymore_.'

"_WHERE ARE YOU GOING?_" Melanie screamed as she tried to regain his attention. "_**I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!**_"

"But I'm done with you," Darius answered. He stopped and looked back only long enough to add one final comment. If this girl truly was like he guessed she was, she would no doubt want to have the last word in every conversation. Maybe something to throw her off balance long enough to let him make his escape without being pursued? "And for your information, this dragon was a male."

"_Nu-uh!_ _Tess_ is a _girl!_" Melanie screamed instantly, stamping her foot to accentuate her point.

'_I knew it_,' Darius sighed to himself. So much for the clean getaway. Turning away before the retard could get the wind back into her sails, Darius took at his best sprinting speeds as he tried to focus his mind on remembering where he'd seen Harry's last location.

"_COME __**BACK**__ HERE, YOU __**ASSHOLE!**_" Melanie screamed, immediately giving chase despite seeing and knowing that she'd never catch up to the man who was already disappearing around the corner of a nearby building. Coming to a panting stop, Melanie turned and gazed mournfully at Tess' dead body and severed head. "I'm sorry, Tess. I guess we won't be flying the skies after all. But maybe I can find one of your friends? _Yeah_, I'll talk him into hunting down that _asshole_ and _killing_ him for you!"

Darius breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that he'd lost the stupid girl. Why did he have to save here again? Oh yeah, his conscience wouldn't have allowed him not to. Sometimes, it was a real burden to help people, especially those like _her_. Forcing the girl from his mind, he returned his attention to what he remembered of the town's layout. And if his memory was correct, he was almost there!

Just as he was turning onto the street that would lead to the police station and he saw the building in question come into view, Darius felt something wash over him. It was like a hot desert wind, yet it was filled with emotions of loss, pain, anger, and hate. The feeling was so incredibly potent that it actually caused Darius to stumble to a stop as he stared wide-eyed at the area where he _knew_ the wave of power had come from

In that infinitesimally small moment, time seemed to all but stop for Darius as he focused his whole attention ahead of him, awaiting for…_something_. Something he _knew_ was coming, without knowing what that _something_ was.

Magic, his father had once explained to him, was formed by the connections between the Soul, the Mind, and the Body. In that moment of time, Darius knew that Harry had stopped struggling. In that moment of time, Harry had lost the will to live. In that moment in time, Darius felt the flickering candle's flame of hope he had kept throughout his journey snuff itself out. In that moment of time in which time seemed to slow and stretch on into infinity, Darius could almost _see_ a part of Harry's soul collapse in on itself. Like a star with all of its fire snuffed out, it faltered and caved in on itself.

Then, just when he had almost let his hope slip away like a breeze through his fingers, the next moment of time slammed into him with the force of a star going nova.

In that next infinitesimally short, yet monumentally-tangible moment in time, Darius felt something that his mind could not grasp or explain yet was unquestionably real. It was like the crack of a shattering crystal or the flash of light from a camera. It happened so fast, he almost didn't catch the moment of change, yet he would never be able to forget what happened.

In that moment of time, Harry's soul could collapse no further. And like a nuclear bomb at critical mass, it released the energy it could no longer contain.

And that energy manifested itself into a blinding flash of light that lit up the entire building, blinding even Darius from his position almost a block away. The light was almost immediately replaced by a deafening blast of sound and concussive force as the building was quite literally blown to smithereens. Plumes of black smoke and mortar debris were blown skywards by the explosive wave. Even Darius was knocked off his feet and sent tumbling a surprising distance away before slamming into the tire of a truck almost three town blocks away, knocking him into a spinning daze.

Shaking his head as he fought to regain control of himself, Darius unsteadily climbed to his feet and blinked uncomprehendingly at the sight of the rumbled which was all that remained of the building. '_**That**__…I was __**not**__ expecting…What just happened in there?_'

Working his way slowly but steadily forward, Darius eventually was able to climb into and through the scattered debris. He was careful to avoid the crushed and/or impaled bodies of some teenagers. Judging by the looks of them, they must've been some low-time gang that had been trying to take over the town now that the police had been drafted into the military to fight the dragons. Finally, after much effort, he managed to pull a section of the jail roof aside and exposed the boy trapped beneath. He was in bad shape and would need medical attention immediately.

Sighing to himself, Darius carefully lifted the boy up. "At least he's alive. That's always a good thing."

* * *

**10:32pm  
Ledmore, Scotland**

"Lisa, don't worry about your clothes. We'll be coming back later. This is just temporary."

"Sorry, mum," said a flustered nineteen-year-old Lisa Hanford, removing a few of her shirts from her overflowing trunk.

Her parents had called her back from college so that they and her little sister could all escape the dangerous warzone that their homeland had become. The whole family would be relocating to Iceland until the current crises were resolved. Despite the fact that the Royal military was mustering all their armies and were preparing to march on London to reclaim the capital, the rest of the country was left to the whims of the dragons that had suddenly and mysteriously appeared. And with the ban on the right to own firearms, all that the people of Great Britain could do when faced with an attacking dragon was flee for their lives, rather than being able to stand and fight back like the Americans were doing.

Scott Hanford had found a niche for himself as a retailer of leather goods, most of which came from his family farm. Though it hadn't made him rich, his small store in Ledmore could certainly be called prosperous. Considering how much trade he did abroad, it wouldn't cripple his business to relocate for a while. As soon as his wife and daughters packed their most important possessions, he would lock up the house and the whole family would drive to Ullapool. At Ullapool, they would board a passenger ship to Iceland. It was practically the middle of the night, but he felt it best to leave as soon as possible.

"Brittany, luv, let's get a move on," Lisa heard her father shout upstairs to her mother. "The ship leaves is in three hours and it takes forever to go through security."

"Coming, dear," came the harried response. "I'm trying to get Susie sorted out."

Everyone suddenly stopped when the front door to their house suddenly exploded off its hinges with a loud 'crack,' sending wooden shrapnel in every direction. Scott, who was heading for the door to start up the car, was knocked back against the bottom stair beside him in surprise, unharmed but shocked at the sudden explosion.

"Scott!" Brittany screamed as she rushed out of little Susie's room to see what had happened.

"Bloody hell," he grunted as he picked himself up. Looking towards the doorway, he found himself gazing at a pair of cloaked figures, their hoods were up and completely covering their faces in shadows. "What's the big idea, yo—?"

He never finished his question as one of the figures raised a stick and said something that he couldn't understand. A flash of green erupting from the end of that weird stick was the last thing he saw before he collapsed to the floor, dead.

"Scott!" screamed Brittany, staring in disbelief at the crumpled form of her husband. Glaring at the people who intruded into their home, Brittany gathered up her courage and rushed down the stairs to confront them personally. But she didn't even make it halfway before the other person lifted their own stick and sent a green lightning bolt her way, catching her solidly in the chest and causing her tumble to the floor at their feet lifelessly.

Lisa Hanford stood in her bedroom, looking out into the hallway in shock. She had heard the door explode, followed shortly by the intruders saying some strange words. The scream from her mother woke her from her daze, and Lisa gaped as the elder Hanford bolted down the stairs the hallway. Her mother must've been very distraught, scared, and angry because she didn't seem to realize just what she seemed to be heading towards until it was far too late. Seeing her mother die in a way that left her terrified, Lisa immediately dropped her trunk and raced into her 8-year-old sister's room.

"Susie, come quickly," she cried, holding out a hand. "Drop everything now!"

Susie did so, running up to her sister while wailing in fear. Susie obediently grasped her sister's hand, terrified at the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs. Lisa quickly turned and locked the door to the room before rushing to the window. The drop to the ground was some fifteen to twenty feet below them, but if they landed right, it wouldn't be a problem.

Taking her sister and quickly stuffing her out the window, Lisa hurriedly lowered her down as far as she could go and then released her. With a small cry of fear at the drop, Susie landed and collapsed in an almost boneless heap but Lisa could tell she hadn't been hurt.

Lisa was busy hoisting herself over the windowsill when a fierce explosion tore through the inner wall of the bedroom, leaving a gaping hole and clouding the room with dust and drywall. The explosion was almost strong enough to send Lisa toppling over and falling to her death. But at the last second, she was able to catch herself and save her life.

Reflexively looking towards the new hole, Lisa found herself staring at the same cloaked person who'd killed her mother. But now that she was looking more closely, she could partially see a few strands of dark hair and a young man clearly in his mid-teenage years with a chubby, brutish face. And he was wearing an expression of near-ecstasy for reasons Lisa was sure she didn't want to know.

"Run, Muggle scum," the boy said, an arrogant sneer pulling at his face. "Run away and never return. This house is _ours_ now."

"You killed my mother and father for our _house?_" Lisa yelled, furious and disbelieving. "How could yo—?" She wisely broke off mid-sentence when she saw him raising that damn stick again.

Without a second thought, she dropped herself out of the window and landed next to her sister. Quickly picking up Susie and throwing her over her shoulder, Lisa ran for the fence and ducked between the boards. They ran out down the dark streets of Ledmore, rushing away from their home and the killers who'd taken it over.

From the window, Vincent Crabbe watched two sisters flee down the street until he lost interest. Turning back to the room he was in, his broad sneer vanished as he began looking around at the house that would serve as his family's new home for the time being.

Though it went against their pride as wizards, the Crabbe family (like a disgustingly large number of other Purebloods) had been forced to abandon their homes when the dragons began attacking. It seemed that the Hebridean Blacks were especially attracted to the high volumes of magical energies that generally surrounded a wizard's home. And the older the house was, the more powerful the magic was, and thus the more attractive it became to the dragons.

Granted, Crabbe Cottage was barely a hundred years old but all the Dark magical artifacts that his father had collected over the years more than made up for the otherwise small aura the Cottage gave off. Now the Crabbes were homeless for the first time since they'd immigrated to England, and none of them liked it. They were too proud to ask for aid from any of the other Purebloods, so Vincent and his mother had decided to go and _acquire_ a new house. And boy could Vincent admit to having a great amount of fun attacking, killing, and scaring those worthless Muggles who lived in this especially charming, old Victorian home.

As he was just now discovering, there was a certain dark joy in using the Dark Arts that he was finding himself absolutely reveling in. That joy made him feel invincible, all-powerful. There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to why his family had been such staunch supporters of the Dark Lord in years past. Causing pain and destruction was _so much __**fun**__!_

Stalking down the hallway, he idly wondered if he should track down those girls and have some more fun with them later on. Though, given that werewolves, vampires, and various other Dark creatures were running amok thanks to the dragons and the shambles that remained of the Ministry, the girls would probably be dead in a day's time. Such a shame; that elder girl had been attractive, as far as filthy Muggles go at least. He would've greatly enjoyed making her scream, in one form or another. And the younger one could've served as a nice servant for his dear mother. His family sadly didn't have the necessary gold to purchase a House-elf yet and were too proud take one on loan from one of their family friends.

Like he said, it was a shame.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Sorry about the chapter. It was a rush job on my part. One part due to my need to update this story every so often. And another part due to my desire to post on February 29. I mean, how often does one get the chance to do that? So, if there are any spelling errors, typos, or missing words/jumbled sentences, these are the reasons why. And I'm sorry for that.

A big time shout-out to my friends **782** and **Slytherin66** who were kind enough to answer some of my questions on Great Britain and Scotland. Thank you very much for that information and I hope you two enjoyed this chapter. Please tell me if I was correct or mistaken about some point in the story.

Heheh, Percy's only been the Minister for a short while and already his power's gone to his head. And while you may question how he was able to get as many things as he has done or approved, I feel that they are justifiable.

Let's face it; Fudge did a _LOT_ of questionable things when he was Minister, namely trying to get Harry sentenced to Azkaban in a farce of trial rigged for the explicit reason of showing him to be degenerate troublemaker (_Honestly, trying to get a mere teenager sent to Azkaban without even giving him a chance to explain himself in court? How retarded and paranoid can you get?_), passing numerous and ridiculous Educational Decrees to enhance Umbridge's power in Hogwarts with either the allowance or ignorance of the Wizengamot/Board of Governors, and not to mention his blatantly obvious paranoid delusions of Dumbledore trying to seize his seat of power.

I figure that if Fudge can get away with all _that_ crap, Percy can certainly get away with this stuff.

Also, for those you fanatics who've recognized it, my idea of Black Watch was largely inspired by **DobbyElfLord**'s '_Balancing Destinies_' story. For those you who might be confused, think of the Black Watch as being Percy's very own CIA or MI6 division. And no, the Department of Mysteries and Unspeakables are _not_ a military or law enforcing department. Rather, they are the equivalents of scientists; a fact that is easily misunderstood in both fanon and canon due to the secretive nature of the DoM.

And you wanna know something interesting? I based that 'Melanie' character on my own sister's responses. I had asked her about her opinion on another story idea I'd had a long time ago and, despite my fully explaining it to her, she still believed that she could've tamed the sick and bloodthirsty monster just by doing a few kind deeds to it. And even 'Melanie's personality and responses to Darius are exactly (or as damn near close as I could get) to what her own reactions would've likely been in such a situation. I'm not kidding! And the reason I'd decided to add this character in at all was for my own petty, brotherly need for a spiteful vengeance against her. But I guess that's what happens between siblings now and _again_ and _**again**_ and_**again!**_

And before you all ask, what happened with Harry _will_ be explained. Just be _patient._ There is a method to the madness, _I swear!_

**If anyone's got any ideas for a ****potential name**** for the new Ministry castle, I'm more than willing to give them some thought. Please shoot any ideas at me!**


	8. Burning Bridges

**The Outlaw  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_Chapter 8—Burning Bridges_

**July 16, 1996  
Tuesday, 4:22pm  
Edinburgh Castle, Scotland**

Septimus Arburg watched from the shadows as the various guests arrived.

Just a short week ago, he had been approached by a Ministry wizard with a tantalizing offer. To enroll in a new Law Enforcement branch that the Minister kid was assembling. And the best part of the offer was that those were deemed worthy of the job and were employed would be given above-law powers to do what they felt was needed to bring in criminals and maintain order where and when the Aurors wouldn't or couldn't. A job where he could even arrest Aurors and throw his weight around with no one to answer to? Oh, he just _**had**_ to have that job!

With the public announcement of the Minister repealing the Statute of Secrecy, this gave Septimus, Black Watch, and all other Wizards the power to do as they pleased in the world. And with the Minister's stated plans of conquering first Scotland and then the rest of the United Kingdom and turning them into true nations of magic, it was his assignment to lay the foundations for that plan. That was how he found himself wandering through Edinburgh Castle, the old relic was a major tourist attraction.

He had originally come to this place because he thought that it had held some kind of militaristic significance to the Muggles, if those ridiculous parades and festivals were anything to go by. What he found instead was something quite different than anything he'd been expecting. Apparently, the castle garrison had been called away to reinforce the Muggle Army as it battled against the invading dragons with wavering successes. Shortly afterwards, the castle had been seized by a criminal gang who had immediately gotten to work at forcing an ever-growing group of slaves to strip down the castle of all unnecessary decorations and to refortify it as a true castle. The amount of work that had already gotten done was actually respectively impressive, even discounting the fact that the gang could raid warehouses and other town stores for their needed supplies.

Arburg had spent the past day observing everything going on. And that was how he learned of the banquet that the gang leader, a man called Norman Arminger, was hosting for the different other gangs and cartels that were secretly stationed in the city's underworld. If Arburg was reading the situation properly, he was guessing that this Arminger fellow was hoping to entice the other Muggle crime bosses to side with him and take over the city. Arminger was already taking steps to do that. He and his men had easily overrun the skeleton crew that the garrison had left behind to watch the castle. Those men's bodies, as well as the city Council officials, were hanging by meat hooks from the parapets over the gatehouse that overlooked the Esplanade, the east entrance. It was a show of power if Arburg had ever seen one before.

Each of the different groups arrived with escorts of five to ten armoured and rather intimidating men. Though each group had a slightly different uniform, all of them brandished improvised weapons. These weapons included, but not limited to, bats, clubs, hammers, various types of knives, basically anything that could be used to cut or bludgeon a person to death. And, if his trained eyes weren't fooling him, all of the leaders had guns at their sides, but none of the henchmen bodyguards did.

The hidden wizard couldn't help but chuckle sardonically at situation. Of course the leaders would have the most dangerous weapons. They had to maintain their level of superiority over their minions. And, what was even more amusing was the fact that once their established government had all but disappeared for various reasons, the Muggles would immediately shift back to their older, more primeval ways where brute force won over reason and compassion. If anything, he thought it was a vast improvement and quite fitting since their worth as a people and their true natures were finally showing themselves.

"Welcome, gentlemen," Arminger said from where he sat at the head of the large banquet table. He was dressed in an expensive business suit, but there was no mistaking the light coat of chain mail that he wore underneath it. With his dark, graying hair cut short, slight age lines creasing his face, and a body figure that almost suggested frailty, he struck a slightly conflicting figure of seriousness yet weakness. Arburg himself found himself questioning the man's authenticity to be the leader of the gang he controlled. "Thank you all for arriving on such short notice and under times of duress."

"Spare me the pretty words and political talk, Norman," one of the cartel leaders growled, glaring at Arminger with repressed disgust. "What do you want this time?"

Nodding with a slight smile on his face, Arminger said, "I think you all can agree with me that times are rapidly changing now. Those beasts are spawning far faster than we've anticipated and are much more deadly than we've ever thought they could be. Last I heard, the Royal Army was losing more men than the dragons they were trying to kill. Whole divisions of troops were being incinerated to dust. In fact, I hear that the cowardly Americans are resorting to everything from gas to nuclear weapons."

There was a general round of snide chuckling at that declaration. Clearly, no one at this assembly liked the Americans. A sentiment that Arburg himself wholly supported as well.

"Due to these _terrible_ disasters, certain opportunities are now open to us," Arminger continued seamlessly. "The Queen, the Minister, and his Government have all long since abandoned London and, as of five days ago, the military has lost contact with them. You know what this means, gentlemen?"

They didn't instantly answer, though a number of the thugs and bodyguards gained wide sneers of delight at the implications. With the Queen and government leaders gone and the military fast being ravaged by the increasing numbers of dragons, this meant that society was about to undergo a massive change. And they could very well influence it as they wished with little to no fear of consequences for the foreseeable future.

"At long last, our time of hiding in the shadows is over," Arminger said, nodding to himself with a self-satisfied smile. "We can now rise up to take that which should've been ours. We can become the kings we were always meant to be."

"So what are you proposing?" one of the other gang leaders demanded, glaring slightly at Arminger. It was obvious he greatly disliked the man.

"It's simple," Arminger said. "We form our own kingdoms."

That statement drew raucous laughter from the various men and their bodyguards.

"It seems you've lost your bloody mind just as this country's lost its security."

"I never said it would be simple, easy, or quick," Arminger said levelly, not seemingly affected by the others' obvious disbelief. "This world is entering a new age, and I'm going to take my share of it. As you've likely noticed, food has become a precious commodity lately. The dragons have destroyed many of the factories and warehouses that provide us with our necessities. And despite what some of you may think, eventually things will degrade back to the Dark Ages. Even those precious guns you're carrying will be rendered useless when you no longer have the means to resupply the wasted bullets."

"Are you saying you believe that the dragons will overthrow us?"

"I'm saying that they already have," Arminger said, waving his arm out towards the window. "Look out there: our Garden of Eden's going up flames everywhere, whether by them or us. At the rate we're going, millions will be starving to death or turn cannibal within two months, probably less. Basic utilities will begin shutting themselves down. Riots for food and shelter will break out, destroying what little that remains. Then there's disease and famine. And that's not even counting the dragons who will be dining upon us for years to come."

No one had any snide remarks to make this very graphic and likely accurate depiction of the future.

"What I'm proposing is that we ally ourselves together," Arminger continued. "The factories we still have available here in this city will be sufficient enough to suit our immediate needs. It takes training, but a single, knowledgeable man properly armed and armoured can be like tank to the unarmoured and untrained. A hundred men so armed, acting as a disciplined unit, can rout thousands."

The men, even Arburg, nodded to that statement. Maybe this man deserved his position after all.

"Of course, as you've likely discovered, there's a more immediate crisis that we must deal with first. Right now, there's only one real form of wealth: food. There's enough food in this city to feed the population for about two months, if nothing was wasted and if there was a rationing system; one month, more realistically. A great deal has already been lost and destroyed. Then everyone would die. There is, however, enough for a smaller but substantial number of people for a year or more. And remember, gentlemen, there is no longer a government to stop us anymore. Not here in Edinburgh, not in Great Britain, and soon not even in the whole world." As he had spoken, his voice had continued to rise in volume with equal amounts of passion.

That got an excited buzz.

"Now, before I call this meeting to an end, I would like you gentlemen to think on one last detail," Arminger said. "There'll be only two ways to live in the times that are approaching—farming, and living off farmers. _**I**_ don't feel like pushing a plow."

The banquet soon broke apart as the various factions began quietly discussing amongst themselves the various points that Arminger had made. At the same time, platters with fresh food were brought and laid out on the table from the kitchens by a line of slaves. A feast that made even Arburg's mouth water, those smells were surprisingly appetizing. There were dishes loaded with roast beef, chicken, and Scottish beef, all served with a thick broth and large goblets of whiskey for the drink

Despite himself, Arburg shook his head at the cunning of that old man. Throwing a banquet for his hated rivals, giving them an accurate estimation of the state of the world in the near-future, tantalizing them with images of power and grandeur, and finally playing off their figurative and actual appetites to subtly nudge them to agree with his schemes. This man was cunning. And the fact was, with enough time, cooperation from his rivals, and a bit of good luck, his plans to become a king just might work!

Arburg sneered deviously at this thought. His superiors and the Minister were going to love this! Without a second thought, he Disapparated away from the castle and back to Hogsmeade to make his report.

* * *

**July 17, 1996  
Wednesday, 6:14pm  
Ullapool, Scotland**

There was a rather faint salty taste that lingered in the air as she quietly walked down a street of Ullapool. Nestled by the shores of the Loch Broom and being a fishing port in days past, and was one of the few that remained in all of Great Britain that was mostly untouched by the dragons' rampage and the following quickly escalating riots and destruction of the fleeing city folk. But even then, the city was nowhere near its usual vibrant and lively self. Many of the homes and businesses had been abandoned as the residents fled across the sea to the Hebrides, Skye, and even Ireland. As it was, Fleur could walk down the streets in plain view and not have to worry too much about unintentionally charming the ignorant Muggles with her Veela powers accidentally.

It had been an emotionally painful time for the young woman. The man she loved had been killed in a Death Eater attack, which the Ministry refused to believe or even act on since they were so busy with reconstruction. The most they had done was send a half-hearted letter of condolences to Bill's family explaining that his death was the result of trying to assist the Ministry and getting caught up in a riot with opportunistic thieves seeking to raid Gringotts during the confusion. The Weasley family and Fleur hadn't even bought the excuse for an instant since they knew the real reason for why he was there and what he was doing.

Fleur may not have gotten along with the family at times, namely of course Molly and Ginny. But after Bill's death, she just couldn't bear the thought of seeing any of them so soon after the eldest son's death. She hadn't told any of them this yet, but Fleur had begun to get strong suspicions that Bill had been intending to ask her to marry him after the end of the school year, in front of his entire family no less. That would've been exactly the thing he'd have done, she knew.

Sighing out loud at where her thoughts had once again taken her, Fleur shook her head lightly and returned her attention to where she was going. There was a small café that was still open for business at the end of this street. She knew because Bill's younger brothers, the twins, had asked her to meet them there so that they could talk about something. And since it was in the middle of a former Muggle Town and in broad daylight, Fleur had a very good idea of what they wanted to discuss.

Finding the café, she quickly entered the door and easily found the pair of identical redheads. It would've been hard not to find them since they were the only customers in the place. They sat back in the farthest corner booth, crouched forward and whispering lightly to one another with solemn expressions on their faces.

Walking up to them, she offered them a weak smile as they took notice of her presence. Unlike most of Bill's family, she rather enjoyed these two's company since they were among the few who were a bit more resistant to her charm that most others. Plus they were quite amusing most of the time. "Hello."

"Fleur! It's smashing to see you!" one twin, Fred she decided to call him, spoke up as she settled in the opposite booth seat of the pair.

"Truly, always a delight to see a pretty lady!" George added in.

"Pretty? Are your eyes broken again?" Fred demanded in an obviously fake scandalized voice. "She's too gorgeous to be a mere 'pretty'!"

"Too true, oh brother of mine," George agreed instantly. "But I didn't think putting the moves on her would be a brilliant idea right now."

"Aye, aye!" Fred nodded in acceptance. "Still, that was a rather bitter bit of slander you just spat out. You should apologize to the lady."

"Wasn't there something _important_ you two wanted to talk to me about?" Fleur interrupted, smiling a bit more genuinely despite herself.

Before the boys could continue, the cook of the café came forward and Fleur graciously ordered a cup of tea, mirroring the brothers. The cook seemed to guess that they were discussing things that they didn't want others to hear and quickly left. Once he was judged to be safely away, the twins became serious very quickly as they turned their attentions back to her, "Fleur, have you heard anything from Tonks, Hestia, Emmeline, or anyone in the Order lately?"

Confused but quickly thinking back to past week, Fleur could only shake her head in negative. "Why? Did something go wrong?"

The twins looked between one another brief before saying, "You know that Percy became the Minister, right?" At Fleur's nod, they continued, "Well, we just learned that he had had Mum and Dad arrested on charges of conspiracy and treason."

"What?" Fleur gasped, shocked. "How could he do that?"

"Percy's always been a stickler for the rules and wanted to be the big man in charge," George said frowning in anger.

"And now that he's finally got what he wanted, he thinks that he can do anything he wants," Fred agreed, just as angry.

"But why arrest…?"

"We never included Percy in the meetings—" George said.

"And he probably knows none of the three of us are official members yet—" Fred continued.

"So he sent his people to get the ones that he _did_ know about—" "Who just so happen to be our parents—" "We think he's got people going around arresting everyone who he doesn't like—" "Or who don't agree with him—" "So that he can stay in office after the Ministry's finished."

Flabbergasted, Fleur could only sputter in anger and incomprehension at what the brothers were saying. Fleur had never liked the middle Weasley child. He was far too devoted to obeying the established rules and forcing others to do the same. And while that may have been a natural reaction to being related to the twins and putting up with their notorious pranks, his domineering and somewhat smug personality did him no favours to garnering Fleur's acceptance of him. Of all the Weasleys, Percy had practically exemplified all that it meant to be a Pureblood as far as the Veela was concerned.

As Fleur was thinking on what the brothers had told her, the café cook had returned with her order of tea. The doorbell let out a soft jingle as it opened to admit a small group of burly workmen. They managed to group themselves around a large table off to the side, just inside Fleur's range of vision and she idly watched them from the corner of her eye. The cook was fast to return to take their orders with an almost-forceful need. This was probably the most business he'd gotten in days and he was relishing in it.

Sipping her tea, Fleur had to resist the urge to spit the liquid back out. The drink was not what she'd expected and it seemed to have been poorly brewed. Did she accidently let her Veela charm slip out of her control due to her anger? Muggles were much more susceptible to it than Wizards after all. Maybe she should've ordered coffee instead. Setting cup down and pushing it away in disguise, she refocused on the twins.

"Have you heard anything from the Headmaster lately?" she asked quietly, once again eyeing the newcomers. Muggles or not, it didn't hurt to be a little paranoid these days.

"Last we heard he was doing some kind of project with Mad-eye," Fred answered, just as quietly.

"Probably looking for Harry again," was George's comment.

"You mean they still haven't found him?" Fleur asked, real worry colouring her voice.

Harry was a really nice young man, as shown when he rescued her sister when she could not. Had he been a little older and more mature, she might've entertained the idea of getting to know him better than just being acquaintances. The fact that he'd disappeared around the time of the Blacks' infestation of London worried everyone in the Order greatly. Dumbledore had been adamant that Harry was still alive, though he didn't explain how or why he believed that so strongly. Regardless, the whole Order had dedicated a fair portion of the limited free time in the following days to find him. Not Fleur though, she may have been a little distraught over losing Bill at the time but she was sure that Harry would've shown up eventually.

It was at this time that Fleur caught a familiar movement out of the corner of her eye. A movement that she was very fast to replicate doing herself; drawing her wand from her belt holster. The group of five men twisted around and thrust their pointed wands towards the Weasleys and the Veela as a trio of Stunners flew towards the unsuspecting twins.

Surprisingly, the Twins seemed to sense the change in the air a split second before Fleur had even fully brought her wand up. They ducked to different sides as Fleur threw up a fast shield. The first Stunner was easily and safely deflected to the side. The second and third Stunners slammed into the protective magic in rapid succession after the first, punching through due to the superior power they wielded together.

But Fleur's shield had served its purpose, allowing her to magically wrench the booth the redheads had been sitting on and blast it at the Wizards. Fred and George had already recovered with their own drawn wands and were launching their own spells at the group with almost lethal efficiency from opposing sides. As the booth was blasted to pieces, one of the men launched black ropes towards George. Fleur quickly levitated one of the larger portions of the booth and intercepted the ropes midway to their target.

Using this small window, George sent a strange red smoke cloud into the midst of the men. Fleur didn't recognize that spell, but it almost instantly caused the Wizards to cry out and begin coughing violently. With a ruthless efficiency, the three defenders sent a series of Stunners, body binds, and various other hexes, charms, and curses into the red cloud. As the cloud quickly dissipated, it revealed that all of the men had fallen to the ground, several unconscious or restrained.

Keeping her wand at the ready, she asked, "What was that spell just now?"

"A little treat we created this past year," George answered, pride colouring his otherwise serious voice.

"An instant sleeping gas cloud," Fred said. "A really nifty spell to use in a pinch."

"What's going on out here?" the old cook demanded as he rushed into the room only to stop and freeze at the scene before him. "Wha-What's going on?"

Fleur turned to the man and smiled angelically at him, letting a small portion of her Veela Charm to escape her control. She watched as the man was quickly overcome by the charm's powers. Confident she had him fully wrapped up in her control, she said, "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Please return to the kitchen while we clean up the mess these uncouth men have made of your fine establishment."

"Y-Y-Yes, madam," the cook stuttered out, jumping to fulfil the request of the divine entity who'd spoken to him.

Once the old man was safely away, Fleur turned back to the twins, identical grins of mischievous envy on their faces. "You have no idea how brilliant you just were, Fleur." "If we could've done that back in Hogwarts—" "We could've gotten away with almost anything!"

"We'll talk about that later," Fleur interrupted as she focused her attention on the one remaining Wizard who was still conscious. He was wrapped up in a body bind. "You two clean up the mess, I'll speak with this man."

Walking forward, Fleur quickly bound the other unconscious men in summoned ropes, chained their hands behind their backs, and threw all their wands to the side. Finally, she removed a portion of the body bind from the man, enough for him to speak freely. Bringing out her Charm once again, she asked, "Why are you attacking us?"

"I-I-It was our mission," the man stuttered, clearly trying to fight off the effects. Fleur frowned at the clear sign of resistance and increased her Charm's power by another considerable amount. The man's struggles slowed before stopping altogether as he fell sway to her angelic appearance.

"Could you please explain your mission to me?" she asked in as cute a voice as she could muster, to reinforce her Veela power with some actual charm.

"Our mission was to observe the movements of Fred and George Weasley and Fleur Delacour," the man answered immediately.

"Why?" She already had a strong suspicion, but she needed to be sure.

"The targets were believed to be insurgents involved with Dumbledore," the man said. "If they were to meet anyone on a pre-set list outside of a magical community, orders were to capture and detain until their fates could be decided."

"And who issued these orders? What Department do you work for? Have you already reported our location to your superiors?"

"Minister Weasley," the man said, speaking the answers in the order she'd questioned. "We work for the Black Watch. Yes, we reported before engaging the targets, it is standard protocol."

"Black Watch?" Fleur repeated. "You mean that new law enforcement unit?"

"Yes,"

"Fleur, I think we should leave now," Fred called from where he was peeking out the window cautiously. "These guys might have friends waiting for them that'll come running if they don't report in after a short while or something."

"And it'd be a right shame to go Azkaban for something we didn't do," George muttered from the back corner, where he was busy reattaching the repaired booth.

"You're right," she agreed, though was reluctant to abandon her interrogation so quickly. Still there was one question she felt she needed answered first. "If you had captured us, would we have been given a fair trial for our supposed crimes or would we have been shipped off to Azkaban as soon as possible?"

"Once you had left the magical community to engage in clandestine dealings with other suspected insurgents, you forfeited the right to a trial," the man said, heedless of the danger. Fleur, at first surprised, quickly glared at the dumbfounded man and Stunned him point blank in the face out of anger.

Turning to Fred and George as they came up to her, she said, "We can't go home. This man already contacted his superiors. They'll be waiting for us if we try to return and arrest us with no chance of a trial."

"What?" "Are you serious?" It was quite clear from the looks of their faces that this news was extremely unwelcome to them.

"Yes," Fleur was every bit as disgruntled as they were. "We're…fugitives now. Undesirables."

"Outlaws," the brothers chimed together.

Suddenly, their once bright future and hopes of somehow restarting their prank shop in Hogsmeade seemed so much more unlikely. Despite only being out of Hogwarts for a few short months, they had already invested nearly all of the gold that Harry had given them last year into purchasing and opening a shop in Diagon Alley. It was a shop that had gone up in flames with the rest of London and took their hopes, dreams, and all their assets with it. They were next to broke again with only a faint hope of being able to get back on their feet to try again in a few months' time.

A hope that was now and likely forever gone.

So distraught with their increasingly morbid thoughts, neither of the boys noticed the semi-familiar sensation of being dragged into a Side-Along Apparation by Fleur. She needed to get somewhere safe and it'd be better for all of them to stick together for the time being.

* * *

**6:34pm  
Cotswold Hills, Gloucestershire**

Harry wasn't entirely sure when he started to regain consciousness. At first he just seemed to be swamped in a field of darkness, hazy images that floated through his mind that were quickly forgotten as new ones took their place, and an overwhelming sense of loss that seemed to be crushing his very soul. It wasn't until he began to register the pain that he truly started to awaken.

His body was burning, throbbing with each beat of his heart. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It just plain _hurt_. Still, never let it be said that he didn't have a considerable tolerance for pain which was why and how he was able to finally open his eyes and force himself into a seated position on the bed he was in. Harry didn't really know where he was and he honestly didn't care at this point. It just didn't matter to him anymore.

His wand was broken. What else could possibly matter at this point?

Even without his glasses on, he could see the two snapped halves resting on the bedside table to his right. He could see the red and gold feather than lined the core of his wand sticking out of the broken ends. Maybe it was his imagination, but the broken feather's strands seemed to be…droopy, as though lamenting its own sad state. It was a state that Harry himself felt explained his own perfectly. How could he fight without his wand? How could he _live_ without his wand? The simple fact was that he couldn't.

He was useless now, truly useless.

Before more morbid thoughts and emotions could drift through his befuddled mind, the sound of a door opening caught Harry's attention. But he didn't shift his gaze away from the remnants of his wand. Thus he heard more than saw Darius enter his sky-themed bedroom. The black American walked up to him, carrying a tray of what seemed to be freshly-cooked food and several large glasses of foul-smelling potions.

"You're awake, I see," Darius commented unnecessarily, likely to break the tense silence that was filling the room. "That's good. I don't think I could've stood having to spoon feed you again."

He handed the tray to Harry who didn't really register its presence in front of him. After a moment of sightless staring, Darius finally gave in and let loose a low growl before whacking the back of Harry's head none too gently. "Will you stop that already?"

Rubbing his throbbing head, Harry turned and stared at Darius with almost accusing eyes. "My wand is broken."

"So it is," Darius growled, completely indifferent in the matter. "Shit happens, boy. Get used to it because there's nothing you can do to fix the past."

"I can't do anything anymore," Harry muttered lowly as he turned to stare blankly down at the food in his lap. "I'm useless now."

Growling even more loudly, Darius whacked Harry's head again, this time even harder. "This is why I'll never have kids. You angst over every little thing that doesn't go your way. You're all so self-cantered, arrogant, and stupid, thinking the world revolves around you and you alone."

That little rant quickly penetrated Harry's brain, striking a very tender cord in his very being. "I'm not—"

"Right now, you certainly are!" Darius interrupted loudly, speaking over Harry with conviction. "So you lost your first wand. Shit happens. Wizards lose their wands all the time, far more frequently than they'll ever admit to. Don't get so attached to something that you completely break down if you ever lose it! If you want a damn magic stick so badly, we'll just have to get you a new one."

The pair of them were silent for a few moments. Eventually, Harry turned his attention to the man with an analysing gaze in his green eyes. Doing a once over of Darius' figure, Harry looked up at the fuzzy image of the man he could see. "Where is _yours_, sir?"

For some reason, Darius' let loose a rather spiteful-sounding chuckle. "Finally noticed, eh? I don't have one."

"What?" Harry asked, finally starting to show a sliver of his old self. "Then…you're not a wizard?"

"I didn't say that, boy," Darius corrected as he dragged a chair over from the desk and took a seat. "I am unique as far as a wizard goes. I can't consciously use magic. In that way, I'm more of a 'Squib' than a Wizard."

"I don't understand."

"I'm an Abnormal as you British would call me," the man spoke, his voice curiously annoyed.

"What's an 'Abnormal'?" Harry asked, already not liking the sound of it. It reminded him far too much of his early childhood with the Dursley's, before he knew he was magical and his aunt and uncle constantly calling him 'abnormal'.

"You haven't heard of us?" Darius didn't seem the least bit surprised. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised. People, even wizards, tend to ignore that which they don't deem normal or understand. An Abnormal is a very, _very_ rare type of Wizard. They are unable to use magic as normal people can, but usually possess a special ability so incredible that no normal Wizard could possibly hope to mimic it."

Seeing Harry's incomprehension, Darius continued, "Imagine that you could use your left hand because he didn't have your right arm. Meanwhile, everyone else around could use their right arms, but not have their lefts. Understand so far?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. It didn't paint a very clear picture, but it did kinda show him that Darius was supposedly a minority somehow.

"By being an Abnormal, I have a very special _gift_," How he uttered 'gift' made Harry feel that Darius resented it more than he appreciated it. "A gift that is so rare that it's said to only appear once every two hundred years. But in exchange, I am unable to use my magic like a normal Wizard can. Thus, I can't use a wand."

"What…What is this 'gift'?" Harry suddenly felt that he wouldn't like the answer to this question.

Darius seemed to pick up on his hesitation and carefully examined him, searching for something. Finally steeling his gaze, Harry met his stare with his own. Sighing heavily after reaching his decision, Darius said, "I'm a Visionary. I can sometimes see visions of the future."

"What?" Yup, he didn't like it.

After Dumbledore had told him of the prophecy, finding himself in the presence of a man who claimed to see the future very quickly summoned up a deep burning flame of anger. Just what he needed, another person who claimed to have advanced knowledge of the future coming to him with likely another prediction about him fighting some Dark Lord or great evil that _only __he_ could stop! _Why couldn't these people just leave him alone?_ Voldemort was bad enough!

"Stop it!" Darius barked, hitting Harry's head yet another. "I didn't come to you because of you being some fucking Jesus Christ saviour of the world!"

Rubbing his head again, Harry let loose a low growl of his own as he glared at the man for his constant hitting. Wasn't there a law against hitting a bedridden patient or something? For the first time, Harry actually found himself missing Madam Pomfey's overbearing care. "Then why?"

"My visions aren't like prophecies," Darius said. "I don't speak nonsense riddles that only make sense in hindsight. However, the future is always in motion, always changing. It is only the truly big events that are inevitable to occur that I can see with any real clarity. I foresaw this coming age of dragons destroying the world back when I was only a child."

"What?" Harry couldn't believe that. "Then why didn't you—?"

"I was only a child at that time," the man pointed out somewhat harshly. "I didn't know what it was that I was seeing, only that it scared me badly. I honestly thought that my visions were just nightmares at first. It wasn't until my father started researching the dragons' strange behaviour back in the '70s that I started to understand. But by the time I did, it was already too late to stop it since many dragons had already been infected with the disease."

"But that's only the start of my vision," there was a definite air of foreboding in his voice now. "I foresaw the rise of a Dragon Lord. A Dark Wizard of such _immeasurable_ power that he could command dragons to do his bidding. He would first arise from the ashes of England and begin destroying the world. No one could _stop_ him, no one could _challenge_ him, and no one was _spared_ from him. He would destroy _everything_."

For a moment, there was a very tense silence in the room as Darius allowed Harry digest that kernel of information. Looking up after a moment, Harry looked at the man with a very intimidating gaze in those intense green eyes. It suddenly felt to the black man that the boy wasn't looking at him, but right through him, searching for the truth of his words.

"That's why you came here, isn't it?" Harry asked after a moment. "To find this man and put a stop to him before he could come to power."

"Yes," he nodded in acknowledgement of the boy's assumption. "It is also why I sought you out. Like I first told you, I thought that you could help me spread the word of the disease here, at Ground Zero. Plus, you are a rather promising young Wizard in your own right. You could be a big help in the fight, should you choose to help me."

Harry looked to the side, clearly thinking over Darius' request. "This 'Dragon Lord,' as you called him, is Voldemort, isn't it?"

Darius didn't answer right away as he stared at the boy. Though he wasn't one to willingly believe in fate, which was kind of hypocritical because of his visionary powers, Darius knew that the Potter boy was tied to the lunatic Dark Lord in some powerful but intangible way. If he involved Harry in this any more than he already did, there was a pretty good chance that Harry's obvious fears would come to pass.

"I can't truthfully answer that," Darius said carefully. "While it is true that he was an extremely powerful and dangerous Wizard, there is always the possibility that it's not actually him who'll do it. Remember: my visions are fluid, constantly changing. The decisions we make affect the outcome of everything we do, which affects what others do in turn."

Harry was silent for a moment before he grunted and turned his head away. "It doesn't matter. Without a wand, I couldn't help even if I tried."

"I could do something about that, you know," Darius said, earning Harry's questioning gaze. "I may not be able to use magic, but I can teach you the basics of the ways that Americans use magic. It's quite different than waving a wand and spouting nonsense gibberish."

Despite the clearly mocking tone, Harry chuckled at the man's description. Truthfully, that's what traditional magic in Europe was. Seeing that boy was actually interested in the idea, Darius stood up and moved the chair back to the desk. "We'll talk more about it after you've recovered. For now, eat and drink those potions. You should be alright by the end of the week."

Glancing down at the now cold meal in his lap that he'd forgotten about, Harry couldn't help but wince slightly. He wished that Darius could've warmed it back up for him, but… Oh well, he'd have to make due.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Well, here it is. The last chapter of 'The Outlaw'. Yes, you read that right. Originally, this story would've been much longer (at least 20+ chapters) but revisions, new ideas, and a few other factors cut this one short.

One prominent reason why I decided to cut this short, for all that has happened in this story, it is essentially an exaggerated 'prologue' that introduces the circumstances and situations of the main story. And that story has been changed to take place after a significant time skip (1-2 years later).

Big time thanks to **Slytherin66** for reviewing and helping me create the right kinds of atmosphere for the various scenes. You're help is truly invaluable for this story, for my ideas of the sequel, and my other stories as well. Thank you, my friend.


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